Life Is What Happens
by Lady Stormcrow
Summary: After a year and a half as an official hero, Megamind is full of plans for Metro City - and his own future. But when he investigates a series of missing children from the city's poorest neighborhoods, life gets more complicated than anyone imagined.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Life Is What Happens

**Author: **Lady Stormcrow

**Rating: **PG-13

**Summary: **After a year and a half as an official hero, Megamind is full of plans for Metro City – and for his own future. But there's a saying, "life is what happens while you're making other plans", and when he investigates a series of missing children from Metro City's poorest neighborhoods, life gets more complicated than anyone imagined.

**Warnings: **Memories of abuse, naked cuddling, references to sexytimes

**Chapter 1**

_Violet Morgan woke up from another nightmare. _

_She struggled out of the tangled blankets, not caring that her room was chilly, just needing to get rid of the awful _trapped _feeling. Which was pointless, because she was still trapped. They'd locked her door a few hours ago, at lights-out. Same as every night. _

_Speaking of lights, she was glad to see that the overhead lamp was still off. That meant she hadn't cried out in her sleep, and the guards wouldn't be coming to check on her. They'd used to actually come into her room for that, but more often now they just stood on the other side of the mirror and spied. _

_Because they were afraid of her, even if they wouldn't say it out loud. She might not be the most dangerous one here, but she scared them the most, and she liked that. They _should _be afraid of her. _

_They were the ones who'd made her this way. _

_Okay, that wasn't quite true, but they were the ones who'd made her this _strong. _Before, she'd needed to be able to touch someone to read them, and even then it only worked if their thoughts were loud enough. _

_Now she didn't even have to be in the same room. _

_How long had she been in this place, anyway? With no windows and the temperature always cool, it was damn hard to keep track of time. Still, she knew it had to be more than a year by now, because she'd had her monthlies at least a dozen times – but she didn't want to think about her own blood. Because it made her think of what Paul, her stepfather, had done to her, and what she'd done to him when he wouldn't stop, and then things that had happened in juvie, and things she'd seen after she came here . . ._

_Trembling, she tried to cut off those thoughts. She cast her mind outward, looking for a distraction. Yes, one of the others was having a nice dream, focus on that. Happy thoughts, girl, good vibes . . ._

_It took time, but eventually Violet fell back to sleep. _

#-#-#-#-#

Miles away and hours later, Megamind woke up shivering.

_Someone stole my warm, _was his first groggy thought, and there was the culprit right in front of him. All he could see of her right now was her sleep-mussed brown hair, but she was surrounded by the evidence.

He loved Roxanne Ritchi heart, mind, and soul, but he didn't love it when she hogged the covers.

Last night, the blue man recalled, the two of them had been so deep in the afterglow that neither wanted to move, so he'd fallen asleep without putting on his pajamas. Now he was being coldly reminded that Metro City was only just changing from winter to spring.

Remembering last night, and the many _exciting _nights he and Roxanne had shared over these past months, he quickly formed a plan. He'd been sleeping with his knees pulled up to his narrow chest, unconsciously trying to conserve heat, but now he stretched out and wriggled over to her quilted form. His arms went around her. He nuzzled her hair, breathing the cinnamon-y scent of it.

"Ngh?" Sleepy blue eyes slowly opened.

"You have stolen my blankets, Miss Ritchi." He nudged his groin playfully against where he thought her rump would be; bundled up like that, he couldn't tell for sure. "Therefore I must extract revahnge by stealing the living warmth from your body."

"Mmm, I surrender," she purred, and rolled over to face him, lifting part of the silver-gray comforter with her. A moment later, he was snuggled with her inside a cocoon, her body all soft curves against him, her breath warm on his skin. Without thinking about what he was doing, he rubbed his forehead gently against hers.

It had been like this for a year and a half now, ever since he'd officially made the career change from supervillain to not-quite-super-but-getting-better-with-practice hero. In the few months before that, when the city was rebuilding after Tighten's rampage, the two of them had wondered if they could have a real relationship together. He'd known he wanted to _try – _he had been attracted to her for years, even if he wouldn't admit it to himself, and by now he was hopelessly in love. And, she'd confessed, she was attracted to him too. Had been for a long time. But there was so much painful history between them, so much baggage . . .

They'd agreed to take it slow. That agreement had lasted roughly two weeks before ten years of sexual tension went like a dam bursting.

Things had been _amazing _for a while after that. The two of them had been all over each other, making up for lost time – Megamind for a lifetime of loneliness, Roxanne for years of maintaining her image as the city's "good girl" reporter. There were times, at first, when she had to guide him, but he was nothing if not a fast learner, and as passionate and creative about loving her as he was about everything.

Months passed, and the passion was far from gone. But more and more, there had been moments like now, when they were simply _together, _in love and at peace. In some ways, that was even better.

Roxanne was part of the reason he'd built these living quarters into the Lair. Decades ago, when the power station was still operating, this upper corner of the building had held offices and record-keeping rooms. Once Megamind had realized he was going to be living here all the time, instead of spending weeks in jail or moving between hideouts, he'd turned the biggest office into his bedroom – _their _bedroom – and fixed up the others while he was on a roll.

They both liked Roxanne's loft apartment, but it wasn't practical for Megamind to spend a lot of time away from his workspace, so in these rooms they compromised. When she suggested carpet on the floors, he'd carpeted the floors (in midnight blue, though he'd stopped at working in a lightning bolt pattern). When she'd begun staying overnight, he'd put in more closet space and a dressing table big enough for them to share. His first design for the bed had been a bolted metal monstrosity with Tesla coil bedposts and spikes crowning the headboard; when Roxanne finally stopped giggling, she'd remarked "Kinky," and told him she didn't want to live in fear of being stabbed or electrocuted if she rolled over. Together, they'd designed a much more comfy bed, and he'd settled for padded leather on the headboard.

She hadn't officially moved into the Lair yet. But after months of sleeping over for days at a time, and finding (with some surprise) that they could share space without wanting to kill each other, last night she had finally agreed.

They cuddled a little longer, until the alarm clock went off and Roxanne nudged him. "Time to get up."

"Mm, six more minutes."

"Come on, you know we've got a busy day ahead of us. You're unveiling that project at the community center, and I convinced the station to let me cover it." Then, when he still wouldn't move, she added with a smirk: "Johnny."

He sat up abruptly and pushed the covers away. "I knew I should never have told you!"

"I don't understand why you're so touchy about it," she called as his thin blue form disappeared into the bathroom. She could read him well enough to tell he wasn't really mad, and it was always fun to start the day with some banter.

"Because 'Johnny Blue' is not a real name!"

"And 'Megamind' is?"

"Yes!" his voice rose over the sound of a running shower. "It's a name I chose for myself, not one that some bored and _uncreative _filing drone wrote down! I even had it legally changed when I was old enough."

"I still have a hard time believing they let you do that!" She smoothed out the comforter as she got up herself, and followed after him. The bathroom he'd designed was sleek and futuristic-looking, white tile with a few silver highlights, and she wondered if her comment about him "looking pretty good in white" had been an influence.

". . . All right, maybe I . . . sort-of hacked the database," he admitted, from behind the silver-and-glass door of the shower chamber. "Just a tiny bit. But they never tried to change it back!"

"Calm down, I won't tell anyone," she promised, as she opened the door and stepped under the water with him.

#-#-#-#-#

When the two of them were finally clean and dressed (which took a while, because they ended up having entirely too much fun with the soft, lathery washcloth), they headed downstairs.

Megamind wasn't the only one who'd been making homey additions to the Lair. During their years of evil, Minion had sometimes watched cooking shows and offered to recreate dishes for his ward, but more often than not Megamind had told him not to bother - it was a waste of time when there were always so many other projects to work on. That, and it was hard do anything fancy when all you had was a Bunsen burner or hotplate borrowed from the workbench. But living on takeout wasn't a heroic lifestyle choice ("You need a healthy diet to keep up your strength," the cyborg fish had scolded), so he'd claimed this alcove next to the stairs, and built a nice little kitchenette.

It had started as a rough setup, with counters made from leftover slabs of sheet metal and the appliances scrounged from various places around the city. But whenever Minion had a free moment, he'd added improvements. The floor was tiled, and the metal counters were replaced with glittery off-white stone, like the sand of a tropical beach. When none of the wallpapers he considered seemed right, he'd simply cleaned the bricks and hung up pictures. A metal frame bolted into one corner made room for a TV, which Minion was watching right now as he brewed coffee.

". . . _And we're happy to report," _the morning newscaster chirped, "_that Metro City has enjoyed its first quiet weekend in months, following last Friday's defeat and capture of the villain known as Destruction Worker." _They showed a clip from that battle: Megamind jetpacking around a construction site, brainbots swarming after him, as he dueled with a beefy man wielding twin jackhammers, his face hidden by a helmet shaped like a traffic cone. "_With the arrest of Hot Flash last month, that marks two members of the so-called Doom Syndicate behind bars, and we can only hope . . ."_

It might be true that "as long as there's evil, good will rise up against it", but unfortunately the opposite was also true. The Doom Syndicate wasn't truly a new group; several of its members had been around for years, hiding in the shadows, too scared of Metro Man to do anything on a grand scale. Then Megamind had taken his place, and they had popped up like weeds, believing that, as an ex-villain himself, he'd go easy on them.

They'd been wrong.

In a twisted way that Minion knew nobody wanted to admit, the Doom Syndicate had _helped_ Megamind. His many public battles against them, and now putting two of their top members in prison, had done wonders to convince the public that he really was a good guy now. Not completely, not with twenty years of mayhem still to atone for, but if those years had taught them nothing else, it was that the people of Metro City loved a good show. And thanks to Hot Flash, Destruction Worker, and the still-elusive Psycho Delic, they got what they wanted.

Minion turned in his dome as he heard two sets of footsteps on the stairs. "Morning, Sir! Good morning, Miss Ritchi!"

"Morning, Minion," Roxanne called back. She took a seat at the bar counter that divided the kitchen from the main floor of the Lair, and smiled as the fish brought coffee and muffins. "You know, I think I can get used to this treatment." She gave Megamind, sitting beside her, a teasing nudge. "And I won't have to worry about you stealing from my fridge anymore."

The alien looked affronted. "I never!"

"Oh really? Thanksgiving? That apple cake my brother sent?"

"There was no evidence!"

"I'll say!"

_". . . And finally, the search is still on for Nathan Garcia, reported missing last week from his home in Metro City's East Side." _Onscreen, the newscaster's image was replaced by a photo of a chubby, dark-haired boy. _"Thirteen-year-old Nathan is believed to be the latest in a series of abducted youths, and police urge anyone with information to contact . . ."_

Roxanne felt her good mood fade a little as she watched the broadcast. "Honey, when you're on camera this afternoon, see if you can mention Nathan Garcia. And Annie Coleman, and Tyler Bell, didn't you say they were probably taken by the same person?"

"Uhl-" Her boyfriend paused to swallow his mouthful of coffee. "I'll try to bring it up. But I don't want to give the impression that Find Your Way is merely a ploy! I want it to be a successful, lasting program, with positive effects for generations to come!" He had been practicing lines like these for several weeks now, prepping for this day, and they were both happy with how easily the words came.

The morning news broadcast ended, and now a commercial was playing. The camera's eye raced along a golden beach at sunset, following a man astride a vehicle that, despite the smaller engine and lack of pointy bits, was clearly a version of the hoverbike Megamind often used in his patrols. A voiceover shilled buzzwords like "speed", "power", and "soaring freedom" as the rider picked up a model with artfully windblown hair and they flew away into the sunset.

When Megamind had chosen to hold a "yard sale" a year and a half ago, it hadn't only been about getting rid of his old, evil machines and gadgets. The city did let him have some supplies for free (though the bureaucrats were annoyingly _picky _about what he could use the supplies for), but it wasn't enough. Worse, the outlet store in Romania had revoked his credit when they learned he'd taken up heroism. A strongly worded letter had claimed he hurt their image, and while they were still willing to do business with him, from now on it was cash or nothing.

In short, he needed money. And since robbing banks was no longer an option, he'd decided to try selling his inventions on the open market. Yes, the first try had ended badly, but he'd learned from it, and realized that an even better plan would be to patent some of his safer designs – why, it was almost like selling the same invention over and over again!

For once, his plan had been a success, even if Minion and Roxanne sometimes disagreed with him on which designs were "safe". The terms placed on him at the start of his release meant most of the money went into Metro City's coffers, but he was allowed to keep a small percent of it, and with things like the hoverbike selling so well, that small percentage added up.

So he had a steady income. He had a home. He even had a job, sort of. It was all so disgustingly _conventional. _

But he also had the most wonderful and beautiful woman in the universe, and that made it all worthwhile.

#-#-#-#-#

After Roxanne had left for work, Minion was gathering the breakfast dishes when he stopped suddenly. "Oh, sir, I almost forgot! This came in yesterday." From on top of the TV he grabbed a padded envelope with a bulge in one corner, covered in international postage.

One of the first things Megamind had done as a mostly-free citizen was create a legitimate mailing address for himself and Minion, and that had led to one of the most bizarre developments in his new life: fanmail. Well, both fanmail and what he supposed would be called "hate mail", and so much of both that he'd tasked a special group of brainbots with sorting through the stuff. Their sensors could detect explosives, poison, and other chemical and electronic nastiness, but crazy things still slipped through sometimes; he had vivid memories of a female fan who'd sent him her . . . _undergarments, _along with photos of herself not wearing them.

Fortunately, Roxanne had thought the whole thing was funny as hell. But the sight of this new, suspicious package was still enough to make Megamind scurry down from his chair and back away. "What is it? It's not from those people in Denmark, is it?"

"Actually, sir, it's from Cosmina."

Immediately, Megamind perked up. Cosmina Anghelescu had been their business contact in Romania for many years, and she was one of the few who'd continued to associate with him after he changed sides. "It's finished! She sent it!"

"What's finished?" Minion asked, puzzled.

Ignoring him, Megamind plucked the envelope from his robotic fingers and ripped at it like a child tearing into a Christmas present, pulling out tissue paper, receipts, and finally a tiny velvet box.

Minion's golden-brown eyes widened. "Sir . . . is that . . ."

"Take a look, Minion."

The ring was made of black iron, with delicate silver threads twining through. There were three stones: two tiny, triangular white diamonds that framed a larger, blue-tinted one cut in pear shape. It took Minion a moment to realize the placing of the gems mimicked the shape of his boss's "M" logo.

"It's . . . beautiful, sir." It wasn't a complete lie. The ring was definitely _striking, _and really, he would have been more surprised if Megamind had gone for something subtle and traditional.

"Yes! I designed it myself," the blue alien declared, holding up the open box so that the jewels caught the light.

"I kind of guessed that," Minion said. If Megamind had been looking at him instead of admiring the ring, he would have noticed that the fish didn't seem happy. "Does this . . . I mean, are you planning to . . ."

"Oh yes, dear Minion." His master cradled the ring to his heart, lost in daydreams. "The time has come to ask for the honor of Roxanne's hand in marriage."

". . . Sir, are you really sure this is a good idea? You've only been dating for a year, and she _just_ agreed to move in –"

"Exactly! We know now that she _wants _to be with me."

"But if the ring arrived yesterday . . . How long have you been planning this?"

"Since our anniversary. I knew it would have to be truly special, so I called Cosmina and asked if she could find a custom zhool-ery designer. As fortune would have it, she knows a man who used to make oor-naments for the old Soviet villains. She made some calls, I sent them my sketches, and now everything's ready. Although I think Cosmina was disappointed." He gave Minion a sideways grin. "She has a thing for me, you know."

Minion rolled his eyes. "Riiight . . ."

"But alas for her," he went on, still ignoring the fish, "my heart belongs to another."

"But sir . . ." Now Minion was struggling to find something to object to, and settled for, "Sending a diamond ring by _letter?_"

"I know, it was a perfect plan! No enormous fees to pay, no security to draw attention . . . Minion, you know I couldn't have bought a ring here in the city. Someone might talk, and that would ruin the surprise!"

Minion sighed, and gave up. "A very good point, sir. So, when were you thinking of proposing?"

"Oh, I hadn't chosen the occasion yet. But now that the ring is in my grasp . . . yes, tonight will be perfect."

"_Tonight?_" The bioluminescent growths running down Minion's back flared up in shock.

"Yes, tonight. We're already going to be celebrating the start of 'Find Your Way'; it'll be the perfect occasion to bring up our own future."

". . . Is there anything I can do, sir?"

"Well, I don't expect you to play the accor-deeyon and serenade us. Just prepare a nice dinner. Something romantic, that you know Roxanne likes. Surprise us!" Grinning uncontrollably now, Megamind slipped the ring box into a pouch on the utility belt he'd recently started wearing – as a non-invincible hero facing a variety of enemies, he needed to be prepared. "Oh Minion, this is going to be _perfect!_"

#-#-#-#-#

As his boss left, Minion cleaned up the torn bits of envelope and filed the receipts, lost in thought. So, Sir wanted to marry Roxanne Ritchi.

His ward was taking a mate.

Minion told himself he shouldn't be surprised. He'd been observing them for the past year, and had to admit that in many ways, the two already acted like a mated pair (he'd even witnessed them mating a few times – with so much space, he wished they'd be more discrete!). And he liked Miss Ritchi, a lot. She was a good influence on his ward, and he wanted her to go on being a part of their lives. And, more than anything, he wanted his Sir to be happy.

So why did the idea of them getting _married_ suddenly worry him like this?

#-#-#-#-#

Every city has a place like it. They call it the ghetto, or skid row, or some other name catchier than "center of urban decay". In Metro City, they called it the East Side, and it described the tangle of old, run-down neighborhoods that lay under the elevated highways.

Roxanne had offered to drive, but now, as memories began to rise up inside her like cold, dirty water, she thought it had been a mistake. This had been Hal's neighborhood, which was probably why it had been spared the worst of his wrath. Unfortunately, that also meant it hadn't received the same care and rebuilding as the rest of the city in those months afterward. The brick-and-concrete buildings were still grimy, many of the street corners hosted trash piles, and graffiti seemed to cover everything.

_But it's getting better_, she reminded herself, thinking of why she and Kenny were here today. After . . . well, _everything_, she had gone through a series of camera operators, male and female, before she settled on Kenny Yamada, a quiet and friendly young man who had moved to the city last year from San Francisco. He was new to journalism, but took his job seriously, and she got the impression he was a little awed to be working with _the _Roxanne Ritchi (he also, she'd been pleased to learn, had a steady girlfriend).

By the time they reached the St. Joseph Street Community Center, crowds were already gathering. The neighborhood residents had known something was underway ever since New Year's, when the first teams of brainbots had started work on the old building, raising it from one story to three and cleaning and repairing the brick exterior, as well as other, interior changes that the reporter hoped she'd have time to cover. For this, the grand re-opening, Megamind and the center's director had planned to open the doors on a Monday afternoon, just after the local schools let out.

Some attention, though, had also been drawn by the line of brainbots discreetly patrolling overhead. With one of the Doom Syndicate's leaders still unaccounted for, and so many civilians gathered (especially children), Megamind couldn't afford to let his guard down.

As she and Kenny took their spots under the blue-pipe-and-plexiglass front awning, Roxanne couldn't help noticing that there were only a few other reporters covering today's event. _And if Megamind wasn't making an appearance, there probably wouldn't be any, _she thought bitterly. She didn't like to think so badly of her colleagues, but she'd studied journalism for half her life and knew it was true. Places like the East Side hardly ever received media coverage, unless some lurid crime took place there and drew in the vultures. The "viewing public" (in ten years of reporting, Roxanne had never met anyone who identified as a "member of the viewing public") did not like to be reminded that the East Side existed, or that the people who lived here were _people_, and not some distant problem to throw money at when they wanted to feel generous.

_Be the change you want to see in the world, _a quote from her school days came back to her. Well, today she would be.

"Good afternoon, Metro City! It's a beautiful spring day here at the St. Joseph Street Community Center, which, starting today, will play host to a new project developed by our city's beloved hero, Megamind." As she led the way into the building, she gestured to the new sign by the front door: two lines, one blue and one yellow, twining together and then dividing, with a pair of gray feet standing at the point where they divided ("Two roads diverged, and that has made all the difference," had been Minion's vision after Megamind tasked him with designing the logo).

"The program, known as 'Find Your Way', will focus on providing after-school services to the youth of Metro City's East Side." Inside the lobby, she found the person she sought, and gave him a warm smile. The full "bad boy" image wasn't right for today's event, so he'd chosen a cape with a lower, more rounded collar, and no spikes. "Megamind, would you tell us, what makes Find Your Way different from other youth programs?"

"Of course, Miss Ritchi. While our doors are open to everyone," he gave his cape a brief flourish for emphasis, "Find Your Way places special focus on helping troubled, disadvantaged children and teens."

"That sounds like something you'd know a lot about." Memories passed between them. A little blue boy in a prison jumpsuit, never accepted by the other children. A schoolhouse, filling with smoke from a paint bomb. "Did your own experiences play a role in creating Find Your Way?"

"Very much so. You see, my life on both sides of the law has taught me something the average citizen might not realize: many criminals, I might even say _most_, are not 'bad people'. They turn to crime because they grow up believing they have no other choice, because they were born into a society that never gave them the chance to find a better way." He turned the full power of those big green eyes on the camera. "I hope to give Metr- . . . _Metro City's _future generations the chance I never had."

Before she could say more, he stepped away and nudged the woman beside him closer to the microphone. "But while the idea was mine, much of the credit has to go to my co-conspirator here, Director Alicia Sanders." He grinned at the camera. "I'm mostly here as a pretty face. Not that you're not lovely too, Mrs. Sanders!"

"Flatterer," the director replied with a smile, but the compliment was deserved. Alicia Sanders was a willowy black woman in her mid-fifties, with smoky gray hair worn up in a crown of braids. Roxanne recalled that Megamind had spoken of her often in the last few months, during evenings when the two of them were together in the Lair, talking about their day. She mentally went over the things he'd told her – that the director was a lifelong East Side resident, that she'd kept the community center running for years in spite of low funding and constant budget cuts, that her warm and jovial nature hid a core of iron . . . it was easy to tell that he liked her a lot.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Sanders. Perhaps you could tell us more about Find Your Way?"

"Happy to. Like our friend said," she gave the beaming blue hero a wink, "we're focused on helping troubled young folks find a positive direction in life. We offer counseling and health services, and classes in science, art, and music. If things go well, we're hoping to offer more subjects, maybe even open some new branches. Most of the staff here are from the neighborhood, so they . . ." She stopped, and waved to someone over Roxanne's shoulder. "Hey, Danielle, come and say something! Miss Ritchi, this is my assistant, Danielle Dymond."

Roxanne wasn't a tall woman, so she was surprised to find herself looking down three inches at the newcomer. Her skin was bronze-brown, and she had dark, curly hair tied up in a short ponytail. She also had to be a lot stronger than she looked, because she was carrying a stack of folders nearly two feet high.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Dymond," Roxanne said, and then hesitated, realizing the woman was mostly hidden by the tower of folders and she couldn't point the microphone at her without it looking like a joke.

Fortunately, Danielle turned to look at the camera, showing a rounded face with high cheekbones and dark, almond-shaped eyes. "Likewise." Judging by the younger woman's cold expression, she didn't mean it.

Ever the professional, Roxanne tried to continue interviewing. "So, I understand you're from this neighborhood?"

"Yeah." Her tone said, _Please shut up and let me get back to work. _

"And what are your thoughts on the new Find Your Way program? Do you have any comments, any suggestions?"

"Not really."

She might have gotten a multi-word reply, but Roxanne knew it was time to quit. "All right then." She turned the microphone back to the director, and immediately Danielle hurried away with her folders.

#-#-#-#-#

As Roxanne and Kenny moved on to interview some of the visiting families, Megamind caught sight of a figure striding toward him through the crowd. For a moment the ex-villain froze, and his hand actually touched the barrel of the de-gun at his hip.

Then he scolded himself for panicking, because the man who approached him looked perfectly normal. He was slim and tanned, dressed in jeans and a spotless cream-colored jacket. His chestnut hair was tied in a ponytail that was probably supposed to make him look young and "hip", but instead made him look rather like that fellow who appeared on beer bottles. Most of all, his expression was one of wide-eyed awe and delight, and that was a welcome change from the fear and hatred of years before.

"W-wow. I can't believe . . . you're really here!" The stranger held out a hand. "It's such an honor to meet you, Mister Megamind."

_Ah, a fanboy. _Older than most he'd seen – the man was at least thirty – but he could not disappoint his public, so after a moment to recall how this ritual went, he reached out and clasped the outstretched hand. "I'm always delighted to meet a fan, provided it's my new, heroic persona that receives your admiration! You are . . . ?"

"Jeffrey Tremblay," the ponytailed man exclaimed, shaking his hand fiercely. "And, yes, that's what I admire so much. You've really been a huge inspiration to me. I-i-in fact, that's why I wanted to talk to you today. This new program, it's so wonderful, I wanted to offer my services."

"Oh? And what do you do that would be of service?"

"I'm a doctor," Tremblay said, still beaming. "Actually, I run the free clinic over on Aurora Street. I know you're going to be offering health services with this program, and I thought, well, perhaps you could use some extra help, since I'm right in the neighborhood?"

". . . Perhaps." It might have been all the flattery, but Megamind was starting to like the man. "First we'll need to –"

"Dr. Tremblay, I was hoping you'd make an appearance!" Now it was Tremblay's turn to freeze as Alicia Sanders made her way over to them. The blue genius didn't blame him for that – even at her most friendly, Alicia could be like a force of nature when she wanted to. "How's Kathleen doing?"

Megamind quirked a brow. "Kathleen?"

"My . . . associate," the young doctor shyly admitted.

"Last I heard," the director said, smiling, "it was 'fiancée' now!"

The news that Dr. Tremblay, like himself, intended to settle down with the love of his life raised Megamind's opinion of him even higher. "Mrs. Sanders, Dr. Tremblay and I were just discussing a new idea for the center . . ."

#-#-#-#-#

After she finished work for the day, Roxanne stopped by her apartment to gather some more clothes. Although she'd agreed last night to move into the Lair (it might no longer be the _Evil _Lair, but her boyfriend couldn't bring himself to completely change the name), it would still take time for her to settle things with her landlord, not to mention packing, and hiring movers . . .

If she asked, Roxanne knew, she could probably have a swarm of brainbots at her command, and airlift her furniture over right now. But one of the conditions she'd laid down last night was that Megamind would let her handle the move completely by herself. It wasn't only that she worried the little trap-mawed cyborgs might chew or drop something (although they were getting better about that). The act was symbolic, and something she knew she had to do for her own peace of mind.

For ten years, almost since the first day of her reporting career, she had been a pawn in the game between superhero and supervillain. Even if she had played along, even if she knew now that Megamind had chosen her out of what would eventually become love, even if the game was over now that Metro Man was gone . . . that didn't change the fact that the choice hadn't been hers. Letting Megamind move all her stuff would be too much like being caught up in that again.

It would be like being kidnapped.

As long as she was being honest with herself, she had to admit that she'd thought about moving into the Lair for months now. She knew Megamind worried about her safety, since he knew better than anyone how easy it was to break into her apartment. Their biggest fear, of course, was the Doom Syndicate, but there were other threats as well – ordinary criminals, overzealous paparazzi, and fanatics who would hate her for loving an alien (because whether he called himself Megamind or Johnny Blue, he _was _an alien, and nothing would change that).

But she had promised herself when they began a relationship that she would never be ruled by fear. And she had known that if she chose to give up her apartment, and declared to the world that she was truly with him of her own free will, she would be giving up any pretense of a normal life.

Except that her life had never been all that normal in the first place.

Last night, she had been sitting with her boyfriend and Minion on one of the beat-up leather couches in the odd corner that served as the Lair's library. Those were her favorite moments nowadays, when the three of them were just _together, _sharing their lives. And she had realized something that she should have a long time ago.

The loft was where she lived, but the Lair was where she wanted to go when her day was done. The Lair was her refuge from the world, where she felt strong and safe enough to take on the entire Doom Syndicate herself. The Lair was where love was, in the form of a big-headed blue alien and a sentient fish who'd welcomed her into their tiny, outcast family. The Lair was where she had _fun, _where she could dance to the radio and not feel like an idiot if someone saw her, because most likely they'd want to join her. The Lair was where she felt comfortable in her own skin.

The Lair, she'd finally realized, was _home. _And suddenly the choice wasn't hard at all.

#-#-#-#-#

She found him down in what she thought of as "the garage", checking over the last of the repairs made to the gear that had been damaged in last Friday's showdown. "You were great today, sweetie."

"Aren't I always?" he replied, rising to his feet. "I'm sorry for not mentioning the children, but it seemed –"

"Hey, it's okay. You were right, the important thing was to talk about 'Find Your Way', and that went perfectly." Roxanne raised one delicate eyebrow. "Though I was kind of surprised how much credit you gave to Director Sanders. It's not like you."

"She deserved every bit of it. Roxanne, you know I'm not much of a 'people person'." She stifled a giggle as he actually used airquotes. "I knew when I started planning this that I'd need help from someone who was, and I couldn't have done it without Alicia. She's a wonderful, clever, caring lady –"

"Easy there, blue man." She gave him a playful sock in the shoulder. "Do I need to be jealous?"

"What? No-no, not at all!" he flailed quickly. "Actually, on that note . . ." Roxanne let out a squeak as he pulled her close. "We have a few hours before I'm shed-yuled to patrol."

She touched her forehead against his. "What did you have in mind?"

"Tonight calls for a celebration. I understand Minion's preparing something special, so if you'd care to join me –"

-_TRUDER!-TRUDER!-TRUDER!-TRUDER!-_

The two of them sprang apart as Shockwave and several of his team came flying over. The brainbot, named for the _Transformers _character, had been in charge of security ever since the Lair's location became public knowledge – guarding the perimeters, watching entrances and exits, and, when necessary, 'discouraging' unwelcome visitors. For the bots to actually come and fetch Daddy, it had to be serious, especially as Minion's voice called, "Guys, you both should come take a look at this . . ."

The hero and his lady hurried out to the main floor. "What's going on? Is it –"

And then he saw the figure on the monitor screen.

He was wearing a trenchcoat and fedora (perfect for reminding everyone how inconspicuous you were!), and he still had that hideous beard, but Megamind would have known him anywhere.

"Metr-"

_No, it's "Music Man" now_.

It had been nearly two years since he and Roxanne discovered the ex-hero was alive. He'd told Minion right away, of course, during the brief hour while they arranged Roxanne's rescue, but the fish had promised to keep the secret, and since then, no word had passed between the former rivals.

Honestly, he wasn't sure how to feel about that. Metro Man had always been a part of his life – a painful and annoying part, mostly, but still a part. He'd built his _identity _around him. And then the man had simply _quit_, and his one real victory had turned out to be a "pity win".

They'd all kept an eye out for him since then. When "Right Through Lead" had hit the airwaves, it was a modest hit thanks to the power of nostalgia ("A heartwarming tribute to the end of an era," one DJ had proclaimed), and the three of them had stayed quiet even as questions circled about the mysterious Music Man. As for why they'd never gone back to the schoolhouse themselves . . . well, there were plenty of reasons. Anger, old hurts, being busy with work, and most of all the unspoken feeling that what they all needed now was _distance. _

But still, all this time and not even a postcard . . .

He thought of a novel Roxanne had given him last winter, on what they celebrated as his birthday. Fantasy and religion, not his usual fare at all, but she'd promised he would enjoy the witty writing. And there had been a line, about two people who had been enemies for so long, and grown to know each other so well, that they'd become almost like friends.

That was him and Metro Man. And that, as much as anything, was why he felt anger rushing up like a splash of acid. "Do you think he'll go away if we all stay very quiet?"

"_No_," Roxanne replied, and before he could do anything she seized the intercom. "Wayne, what are you doing here?"

_Wayne. _That was another thing Megamind had long envied about his nemesis. Two alien orphans had come to Earth, and each had received a new, human name. But one had been named by loving parents who adopted him into their family, while the other was labeled by a prison filing clerk.

"Roxie?" Onscreen, the big man's face lit up in a smile. "Hey, it's great that you're here! I was hoping I could talk to both of you –"

Megamind leaned over the intercom still in Roxanne's hand. "Just get inside before someone sees you!" _Why did he have to come back? _And why _tonight, _of all nights?

That, at least, was answered almost as soon as they'd hurried Wayne inside. "So . . . I saw you guys on the news today." He took off his hat, and they saw his hair was still a mess. "And I think it's great, what you're doing for those kids. I knew this kind of thing was why you'd be good at the hero business, little buddy. You _think _about things. You don't just deal with stuff as it happens; you make plans for the future."

"I am not your 'little buddy'." And, because Wayne was one of the few people who might use it, he mentally added, _And I'm not 'Johnny', either. _"Did you come here just to flatter me? If so, I have better things to do."

"Actually, I thought maybe I could help out."

He hadn't been expecting _that. _Stuck for words, he fell back on what he'd said to Dr. Tremblay. "And what do you do that would be of service?"

"Well, I heard you say the place was going to have a music program. I've been meaning to make a live debut for a while now, so if you'll have me, I'd like to perform at your little community center." He noticed the skeptical looks from all three of them, and explained, "I don't mean a big, expensive concert; Music Man isn't _that _popular yet. Just something small, and free of charge, of course. For the kids." He pulled a card out of one coat pocket.

After a long moment of hesitation, Megamind took the card. ". . . I'll think about it. And now, if you don't mind, _we,_" he gestured between himself and Roxanne, who he wished would step in and say something, "have plans for this evening."

But Wayne stayed. And talked. And didn't leave until they noticed the smoke pouring out of the kitchen alcove.

"Oh sir, I-I'm so sorry," Minion panted once the remaining three of them had extinguished the blaze. He fluttered around anxiously in his dome, trying not to look at the blackened, chemical foam-covered remains of what was supposed to have been chicken marsala served with the first vegetables of spring.

"Don't worry about it," his master whispered through gritted teeth.

"But you –"

"Minion, code: _don't worry about it._"

"Calm down, guys, it's not so bad!" Roxanne called from over by the sink. "I think we saved most of the beans."

"That was risotto."

". . . Oh." She took another look at the saucepan's contents, and grimaced.

"The _nerve_ of that man," Megamind muttered as he started cleaning extinguisher foam off the stove. "_Abandons_ us all, doesn't say a word for _two years_, barges in here and _ruins _our special evening, _and _he expects me to let him . . . him . . . _worm _off of all the work _I _did!"

"If you mean 'leech' . . ." Roxanne paused from scraping out burned risotto. "I really don't think that's what he wants." She looked over at him, her blue eyes soft. "I know you don't want to hear this. I know the center is supposed to be your special project, but I think you should take him up on his offer." He gaped at her, and the hurt in his eyes was painful to see, but she needed to get this out. "We should have known Wayne would come back into our lives eventually. And you heard what he said. Megamind, he _likes _you. He wants to _help._"

"If it makes you feel better, sir," Minion cautiously spoke up, "you could turn things over to Mrs. Sanders, and see what she decides?"

"But she'll . . . !" _But she'll say yes. _Because Roxanne was right, just like she always was. Getting Music Man to perform at the community center, for free, would be good for everyone, and the only objection he had was his own lifetime of resentment against the man.

And a hero, a _real _hero, couldn't let such a thing rule him.

Damn. Even when he was dead (with airquotes), Metro Man ruined everything.

Well, the evening might be a loss, but he still had the ring, and he still had the girl. So he'd do what he'd always done when a plan failed: come up with a better one, and try again when the time was right.

**_To be continued . . ._**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Life Is What Happens (2/?)

**Author: **Lady Stormcrow

**Word Count: **9,157 ( D: )

**Rating: **PG-13

**Summary: **In this chapter, Minion reflects on his place in the world, we learn more about why Megamind's helping the community center, Roxanne meets some people, and an uninvited guest crashes Music Man's debut.

**Warning: **This chapter marks the start of some romantic stuff between a canon character and an OC. I'm trying to be careful with it, but, well, you've been warned.

**Note: **"Broadside" is a real song, by Tom Chapin and John Forster, who hopefully will forgive me for using it like this (seriously, check out their stuff if you can!)

**Chapter 2**

_James Walker was bored. _

_He let his book drop off the bed and onto the floor, ignoring the desk. All they were allowed here was dull, happy kiddie-books, because the guards were afraid anything else might give them "ideas". He'd watched most of the movies they had here. He didn't feel like hiking on the treadmill. And if he complained, they'd just take him to do more tests. _

_Goddammit, he wanted to go _outside!

_Spring would be coming now. The park he'd used to hang out in after school – dammit, he was so bored he even missed school! – would be coming into bloom. If he'd still been at home, he'd be fixing up his grandmother's garden in the lot behind their building. _

_The garden. That's where it had started. _

_At the store, they'd told him nothing could survive in that tiny patch of dry, gravelly dirt. But he had worked hard, giving the seeds all the care he could, and soon there had been flowers for Grandma to put in vases around their apartment. _

_There'd been flowers in here at first, but the guards got rid of them after they saw what he could do _now.

_When he'd first come here, Violet was the only other one. Then others had been brought in, one by one, and he'd done his best to look after them. Don't talk about your families, he'd warned. Not if the guards can hear you. He'd done that early on, kept demanding and begging to call Grandma and let her know he was okay, even if he couldn't go back to her. They'd thrown him in the Tank for two days. _

_He buried his face in his pillow as anger turned into homesickness and fear. James tried never to let anyone see him cry, but now, alone in his room, he could let himself. _

#-#-#-#-#

That same morning, miles away, Minion was restless.

His metal hands and feet clanked softly on the ladder as he made his way down to the chamber floor. Far above, a disco ball hung in silence, casting sparkles through his glass dome.

He and Megamind had wanted so badly to keep the alligators. But death traps were a thing of the past, and, try as they might, they couldn't find a use for the reptiles in everyday hero-work. Not one that would justify the expense of caring for them, anyway. It had been heartbreaking, especially for Minion, until Roxanne pointed out that the gators had served them faithfully for many years – perhaps they'd earned their retirement?

So Dagon, Ozzy, Shredder, Toothless, and Jenny were now minor celebrities at the Metro City Zoo. Minion visited them sometimes, to make sure they had their favorite squeaky toys and that the keepers played their favorite music, and he had to admit they seemed happy.

After the reptiles left, Megamind had said something about turning the chamber into a gym, but all of them knew he didn't mean it. In their minds, this would always be the alligators' place, and it felt _wrong _to change it. So the chamber had stood empty for months, until Minion moved his exercise tank down here.

Down on the floor, the fish opened the hatch on his dome with one hand, awkwardly wriggled through the opening, and dropped himself in the water with his other hand. The tank was about the size of a hot tub, and empty except for some gravel on the floor. It wasn't as if Minion needed much exercise – with his round body and small fins, his species clearly wasn't built for long-distance swimming. Some years ago, while they were planning the ill-fated "Mega-Shark and Giant Octopus put aside their differences and team up against Metro Man" plot, Megamind had offered to build his friend a big, lush aquarium, with whatever decorations he wished. But Minion really did prefer to be in his suit, and not just because it made him more helpful to his master.

As it sometimes did when he was swimming free, Minion's mind began to wander. Like Megamind, he could remember back to his earliest days of life, and his first memories were of water and light.

He remembered a warm, shallow pool, much larger than this one, with white sand on the bottom and walls of coral. There had been many other fish in the pool with him – most of them were his own size, but there had also been one enormous female, who his memory called both _mother _and _queen. _Whether she really had been enormous, or only seemed that way because he himself had been tiny, Minion did not know.

In that sheltered pool, the fish hadn't spoken. Their language was in fin movements, and the lights on their bodies, and scent in the water. And in those first days, the whole world consisted of him, his brothers and sisters, and their mother-queen.

Then other fish had come. Adults, smaller than the mother-queen, who floated above the water in hovering domes. They brought food, and while Minion and the other pups fed, they would examine them, touching gently with the grasping arms attached to their domes.

And then, some days later, a new creature had visited the nursery pool. Most of the pups had been afraid, and fled when she dipped one blue hand in the water. But Minion had been curious, and alone of all his brothers and sisters, he had swum up to the stranger, and let her touch him. In that instant, he had felt emotions rush from the mother-queen: pride, love, wistfulness, and the joy of being _chosen_.

The blue stranger had carried him away. She had marked him – it only hurt for a moment – and then the crucial moment of his life had come.

Tiny blue hands had touched his globe. He had looked into a pair of brilliant green eyes . . . and felt the bond take hold. He hadn't needed to hear the words (_"Here is your minion. He will take care of you."_) to know that this child was _his_. Even as they flew away from their dying planet, Minion had known that no matter where they went, no matter how hard life might be, everything would be all right, because they had each other.

And life hadbeen hard. As his master grew up, the two of them had come to realize just how _different _they were from the people of this world. Sometimes, when things were at their worst, boy and fish would curl up together on a prison bunk and tell each other memories of their homeworld, and a time when they hadn't been _different. _

He remembered the first robotic suit Sir had made for him. It was a flimsy thing that hadn't survived the disastrous "popped corn" incident, but during the brief time it _had _worked, Minion had felt the humans looking at him in a new way. They'd tried many suit designs since then: dinosaurs, tentacle monsters, even one memorable set based on animals of the Chinese zodiac. But they'd always come back to an anthropoid shape, until they settled on the gorilla, which struck just the right balance between "scary" and "acceptable to humans".

Yes, the two of them were different. But Megamind, even if he was colored and shaped a little oddly, still looked like a human. He could walk among them under his own power. He could eat their food, and wear their clothes. He could even attract one as a mate.

There were no people on Earth like Minion.

If he swam in an aquarium, no matter how luxurious it might be, humans would never see him as anything but a talking animal. But when he walked upright, with arms and legs and a head on a torso, _shaped _like a human even if he didn't truly look like one, they treated him as a person.

He hadn't meant to burn the dinner. He was sure of that. But at the same time, there had been a horrible, guilty sense of _relief _when Sir hadn't proposed.

Yesterday, Minion now realized, he'd finally had to face what he'd known for months: that something between him and his ward was . . . not _gone, _but _changing. _More and more, his ward was learning to take care of himself. He had built a home, and now he wanted to take a mate.

_So where does that leave __**me?**_

The same place he'd always been, of course: loyally by his friend's side. And if it was no longer just the two of them against the world . . . well, he'd have to learn to accept that.

#-#-#-#-#

"Well, it _is _a fantastic idea." Alicia Sanders braced herself with her free hand as she looked down from the top of the stepladder. "We can use all the publicity we can get, 'specially if it's free. And now that we've got that big auditorium –"

"Oh, all right!" Megamind irritably spun the business card Music Man had given him last night between his thin fingers, glaring at the white-and-gold "M". _He really did keep his logo. _"I shall give him a call. Later."

"Honey, is something bothering you?"

Normally, Megamind would have hated it if anyone but Roxanne called him "honey". But from what he'd seen, Alicia called all her friends that. And, although he'd never admit it, it was . . . sort of nice.

When Megamind thought of the word "mother", he thought of the beautiful, long-dead blue woman who had given him his green eyes and his minion. There had been nobody like that in his life here on Earth. His "uncles" in prison were sometimes affectionate in a rough way, and he supposed the warden had been sort of like a father – a stern authority figure, certainly. Minion loved and cared for him, but they were the same age, and his fishy friend always called him "sir". But he'd never had a _maternal _figure.

And of course, he was much too old to need one _now! _But he did appreciate all the help Alicia had given him in creating Find Your Way, so if she called him a little affectionate name – one she called everybody! – it wasn't worth it to object. "No, nothing's bothering me. I'm simply . . . distracted. By all of _this._" He waved a hand at the photos Alicia was tacking to the specially-designated bulletin board. Nathan Garcia's was at the top, followed by Annie Coleman, Tyler Bell . . . and many, many others.

Megamind hadn't been a hero long enough to declare any case "my greatest shame", but this one was turning into a contender. The really shameful part was how long it had taken the police to admit there _was _a case. If it had been small children disappearing, they might have acted faster, but, well, teenagers ran away all the time, didn't they? By the time the MCPD had brought things to his attention last fall, nineteen kids had vanished in one year, and Megamind had been furious – he knew the police were used to a superhero solving their problems, but for the love of Tesla, couldn't they do _anything _for themselves?

To be fair to the police, there genuinely wasn't much to go on. Whoever was abducting the kids didn't seem to have a "type" – they took boys and girls alike, and from all races. The victims only had two things in common: they were between the ages of 12 and 15, and they all came from the poor neighborhoods here on Metro City's East Side.

If he'd only had more _time_, Megamind was sure he could have found more links. But the case had come during the height of his campaign against the Doom Syndicate, who were a much bigger threat to life and property . . . he'd had to prioritize! His first plan had been to station camera-bots on every street corner in the East Side. But when he'd presented the idea to the city council, not only they but the very people he was trying to help had been against it. _Fiercely _against it – apparently someone's big brother once used such a strategy for evil?

Well, if he couldn't watch every street, he could at least create a safe place inside the danger zone. The idea for a youth program had already been in his head back then, and it had been an easy step to combine the two, and start developing what would become Find Your Way. But at the same time, he'd still had to deal with other threats to the city, and over the winter, more teens disappeared, including these latest three.

The one bright spot was that, so far, no remains had turned up. So wherever the kids were, they might still be alive.

Unless, Megamind reflected, their abductor was doing what Icepack Lou had done: keeping the bodies afterward. As a child, his uncles had always been careful to keep him far away from that particular inmate. Some things sicken even hardened criminals.

"I hear you on that one." Alicia sighed as she tacked up the last of the photos. "No one's come forward with anything yet, but we've only been operating one day. There'll be time." She rested her arms on the top rung and leaned down, looking at the alien genius curiously. "If you don't mind my asking, how do you and Music Man know each other? You don't seem like people whose paths'd cross too much."

"Oh, I don't _know _him! He's just a . . . business associate. Yes. And I believe he and Roxanne have met before."

"You ought to bring your ladyfriend here again sometime. She seems like she's been good for you." Alicia looked away for a moment. "She's got a big heart, I know that much."

Now what was _that _supposed to mean? Of course Roxanne had a big heart, it was one of the things he loved most about her. She'd forgiven so much . . . and suddenly he knew _exactly _what Alicia meant, and the acid sting of anger from last night came back.

But he couldn't tell her the truth. "She does indeed." He touched the pouch on his belt, where the ring still waited. "Her heart is tremendous, like a . . . fusion chain reaction, warm and bright and ever-expanding . . ."

"She's your first love, isn't she?"

Megamind stopped, and gaped at her. "That's a very personal question! Why would you think –"

"Because my oldest boy was the same with his first girlfriend." Alicia chuckled. "Well, except for the nuclear reaction part. And there's the way I've seen you look when you talk about her. All happy and dazed, like you're drunk on just the thought of her."

". . . It's that obvious?"

"Mm-hm. Either she's the first girl you've ever loved, or you've got it _bad._"

"And why can't it be both?"

"Point taken. But can I give you some advice?" Without waiting for an answer, she said, "Before you start planning your future together, get her in with you on the planning. Make sure you really do want the same things down the road."

". . . I'll give it due consideration."

"Good to hear. Now, about this concert – we'll need to advertise. Flyers might be a start." She swept one hand through the air, envisioning. "Something like, 'Music Man –' "

"Music Man?"

Megamind looked up sharply at the high, excited voice. The voice's owner, coming down the hall, was a girl about twelve years old. She was short for her age, with shoulder-length black hair held back by a neon-pink headband. Around her neck were several ropes of plastic beads, all different colors and shapes – unless the local stores had taken a sharp decline in taste, she'd probably made the necklace herself.

Alicia smiled at her. "You're a fan already, Lucia? That was quick." She began climbing down the stepladder. "This is Lucia Reyes. Her family just moved to the city a few weeks ago. Lucia, I'd like you to meet our city's defender, Megamind."

The girl did a double-take as she noticed the blue, big-headed alien in the spiky leather outfit. Her brown eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. When she tried to speak, it came out as a tiny ". . . Hi."

Oh, this was awkward. Time to go for theatrics. "Greetings, young citizen!" he declared, sweeping his cape in a courtly bow.

Lucia giggled – not the reaction he'd been going for, but still an improvement. To his relief, Alicia stepped in. "You know, we have a music program here at the center, Lucia. And I think there's a class starting soon."

As she led the girl away, Megamind called after her. "How did it work out for them? Your son and his girlfriend?"

"Well, they did give me a third grandchild last year," Alicia called back over her shoulder. "But that doesn't mean . . ."

That was, however, all Megamind wanted to hear. He was about to leave, when a nearby door opened, and Jeffrey Tremblay's ponytailed head appeared.

The doctor broke out in a smile as he saw him. "Oh, wonderful, you're back!" He strode quickly over. "Listen, I-I wanted to thank you again, for letting me do my part for your program. This office will be perfect –"

"Oh, think nothing of it." Megamind leaned casually against the wall. After the way that girl had reacted, he could use some of Tremblay's fawning. "Find Your Way is about helping the neighborhood help itself, after all, and Director Sanders gave your clinic a glowing review."

"That's . . . kind of her." Tremblay's smile faded a little. "But as I said yesterday, _you're _the one who really inspired me."

"Ah yes. I'd like to hear more about that, if you have time?"

"Of course!" The doctor straightened up, and Megamind sensed a monologue coming. "You see, my father was a doctor before me. He was clever about it, too. He," Tremblay gave a small laugh, "specialized in diseases of the rich."

Megamind looked puzzled. "Gout?"

"No, I mean he only took wealthy patients. And, don't get me wrong, he made quite a fortune off it, but I always thought that was selfish. Medicine is supposed to be about helping _anyone _in need." Tremblay leaned in closer. "You might appreciate this. After my residency, I went to work in the infirmary at the Metro Juvenile Detention Center."

Megamind stiffened. "I'm afraid I never visited the place."

". . . N-no. No, you wouldn't have. I'm sorry." Tremblay nervously smoothed the lapels of his cream-colored jacket. "But it's unimportant. Because I saw the way _you _changed, and I realized that where I could do the most good was out in the community. Hence, the clinic."

It was a charming story, but Megamind was getting bored listening to it. And there was another matter he wanted to ask Tremblay about. "I hear you're affianced?"

". . . Yes. Her name's Kathleen Janssen. We met at Metro General, and then she came to work with me at the clinic." He glanced back at the office. "S-she's actually helping set up right now, do you want to meet her?"

"I –"

"Did you call me, Jeff?" A young woman – Kathleen, it seemed – stepped out of the office. She was tall and leggy, with strawberry-blonde hair braided nearly to her waist, and gazed at them from behind a pair of gold-framed, expensive-looking catseye glasses. Her red lips formed an "O" as she saw who Tremblay was talking to. "Wow, you really are that blue!"

She raised one hand, and Megamind saw that, yes, she was wearing a diamond ring. A plain little thing, with no _personality, _unlike the one he'd designed for Roxanne.

"Tell me, Dr. Tremblay –"

"You can call me Jeff, if you like," the young doctor said hopefully.

"Tell me, . . . _Tcheff_, how did you conduct your proposition to the lovely Kathleen?"

Kathleen answered for her fiancé. "Oh, it was nothing special. It was what we both wanted, and we agreed on it."

Well, _that _was no help. It seemed he'd have to look elsewhere for ideas.

#-#-#-#-#

They decided to hold the concert next Saturday night. On Saturday afternoon, Megamind took Alicia's suggestion and brought Roxanne to the center, so she'd have the chance to meet the staff off-camera. He hadn't realized it would also give Alicia the chance to draft her into setting up folding chairs.

To his relief, Roxanne accepted the draft with good humor. "But you owe me. I'm bringing you to KMCP next week to help move equipment."

"But I didn't –"

"I'm kidding." She leaned in to give him a quick peck, and took advantage of their closeness to foist the chair she was holding on him.

The only other person in the auditorium was a bulky young man with a reddish-blond crewcut, who Megamind had said was Roger Janssen, Dr. Tremblay's future brother-in-law. Roger muttered to himself a little too much for Roxanne's comfort, but at least he was helping, and she had other things on her mind.

Her boyfriend had told her about Jeffrey Tremblay, including how the doctor had devoted his family fortune to the free clinic. Roxanne had agreed that he seemed like a good soul, but when they'd been introduced, she'd found she couldn't bring herself to like him much. The man seemed to have trouble paying attention to anyone except Megamind.

Granted, Megamind _did_ tend to stand out in a crowd. But there was something so . . . _hungry _about the way Tremblay had looked at him. Like –

_Like a dingo watches a human baby. _

Okay, that was a little harsh. And she'd read people wrong before. Maybe the man just had a crush – Roxanne could hardly blame him if he did.

By the time they were done setting up, the thought was out of her head, and she watched as the audience began to file in. Many of them, she noticed, were families with children, and for a moment, Roxanne's heart ached as she thought of her own family.

She had known from the start that any relationship with Megamind would never be just a fling. With all the history they had together, it _couldn't _be. But even so, she had waited months before breaking the news to anyone in her family. When she'd told her mother . . . it hadn't gone well.

But then, she should never have expected it to. Her mother had never been the same after Seth died. She'd locked herself in a shell of grief, shutting out even her surviving children, and refused all of Roxanne's attempts to reach out to her over the years. But still, the way Naomi Ritchi hadn't seemed to _care_ that her daughter was dating an ex-supervillain who'd been kidnapping her for ten years . . . Roxanne would almost have preferred it if she'd been furious.

The only other relative she'd told – the only close relative she still had, really – was her brother Jason. But to her relief, he'd been delighted, happy with anything that made his big sister happy. They hadn't had the chance for a visit yet, but he'd sent that apple cake as a good faith offering, and laughed when she told him the story of how it "disappeared".

And, as she took her seat, Roxanne reflected that she had another family, right here beside her. They were weird, and they got on her nerves sometimes, and life with them might never be easy. But they loved and supported her like no one else, and she wouldn't trade that for anything.

Finally the lights dimmed, and Music Man took the stage.

She'd almost been expecting him to wear one of his old costumes. But to her surprise, he'd gone for a folksinger-y, "man of the people" look: faded jeans, white T-shirt, and a honey-colored leather jacket that matched his fringed boots. The whole thing was amazingly subdued for the man who had once literally walked on water.

He did have a glittery white "M" on one shoulder, though. Some things don't change.

"Hey Metro City." He'd lost none of his stage presence, and the crowd cheered. "First of all, I'd like to say what a pleasure it is to finally appear in person before you, the fine people of St. Joseph Street."

Someone at the back of the crowd yelled "Aurora Street!"

"And Aurora Street, can't forget you folks either," he replied with a grin. Roxanne gave him mental points for the save. "Before we start things, I want to say thanks to the guy who made this all possible." He looked down at the front row. "Megamind, you want to say anything?"

Beside her, Megamind looked uncomfortable – which he was, because he'd made the mistake of sitting next to Minion, whose bulky suit barely fit in a chair and whose furry arm kept jostling him no matter how hard the fish tried to keep still. Deadpan, he said, "You're welcome."

Roxanne was tempted to elbow him, but turned it into a comforting shoulder-rub instead. The truth was, she was still mad at Wayne too. Even if they'd never been a couple, they'd still been _friends, _or so she'd believed, and his death-with-airquotes had left a lot of unfinished business. If she could get to him after the concert, the three of them needed to have a very long talk.

But for now, she'd listen.

It was clear Wayne had been practicing since the day they'd surprised him in his hideout. He wasn't exactly _great_, but as she saw the audience clearly enjoying the show, she wondered if that was part of the appeal. Music Man's work was something they could easily sing on their own, and he was someone they could easily hope to be like. Ironic, really.

Although "Right Through Lead" had been Music Man's most popular song to date, he held off on performing it tonight, and went for some of his more recent numbers – more lyrical fluff about heroism, mostly. From the blink of recording devices, Roxanne knew clips would be all over YouTube later.

"Now, this next one's a little different from my usual stuff," he spoke up towards the end. "You see, lately I've been doing a lot of thinking about history, and music, and the history of music, and . . . well, a lot of things. I guess you could call this an 'idea song'. Just a little something I'm trying out." He gave the guitar a melodic strum, and began.

"_Every day the news abounds with scoundrels doin' wrong,_

_Which compels us to take action that's really, really strong,_

_Like expressing our displeasure to the lyric of a song,_

_Preferably a sing-along."_

_Oh dear god, _Roxanne thought. _He's discovered protest songs. _

"_There's a name for what we're doing. 'Broadside' is the term,_

_A tough melodic weapon packed with values we affirm._

_So load 'er up, and let 'er rip, and watch the wicked squirm_

_As everybody sings along!"_

"And I do want everybody to sing along," Music Man explained. "This is the chorus coming up, so on my cue . . .

"_Broadside, broadside, they cannot ignore us._

_They may run, but they can't hide!_

_We'll out 'em with a verse, and rout 'em with a chorus_

_Of a broad, broadside!"_

It was silly, but it was catchy. As the verses went on, more of the audience sang along on each chorus. Minion joined in at first, but stopped when his boss glared at him.

"Don't be petty," Roxanne hissed at them both. "Remember, this is for the center."

"Oh, _fine,_" Megamind grumbled. He slumped in his seat, mouthing the words in silence as his girlfriend and best friend quietly, but actively, sang along with his former archenemy. _Traitors. _

"_You may think a sing-along is just a silly game,_

_And believing it can change the world is really kinda lame._

_But we shall overcome, finally overcame,_

'_Cause everybody sang along!_

"_Broadside, broadside, they cannot ignore us. _

_They may run, but they can't hide!_

_We'll out 'em with a verse, and rout 'em with a chorus,_

_Wreck 'em with a verse, and deck 'em with a chorus,_

_Hurt 'em with a verse and then convert 'em with a chorus_

_Of a broad, broadside!"_

The applause was thunderous, but when Music Man said, "I think we have time for one more song," and launched into the first verse of "Right Through Lead", the cheers went through the roof.

He was halfway through his second encore when the lights went out.

#-#-#-#-#

The music stopped. Muttering voices rose from the audience, annoyed, worried, asking what was happening. Chairs shuffled. Somewhere in the crowd, a child started to cry.

"Calm down, folks, there's nothing to worry about!" Alicia got to her feet, trying to wave for quiet. "Remember, the building's just had a lot of work done. Probably an electrical glitch –"

But Megamind had frozen in his chair. "It's not," he whispered, and he could _feel _the color draining out of his face.

His mind was racing back to last November, to a train station on the day before Thanksgiving – the busiest travel day of the year. According to witnesses, the attack had started just like this. First the lights had died. Then people had tried to get out, and found the doors were locked . . .

Right on cue, he heard Danielle Dymond swear as she tried in vain to open the side doors.

And then – oh dear god, there it was. Above their heads, dark, smoky gas, in all the colors of nightmare, was pouring out of the air vents.

Megamind had suspected another attack would come soon, but oh god, this was _wrong! _It should have been at some huge public event, not a small neighborhood gathering . . . and that was the point, wasn't it? At a big, public event, he'd have been prepared. He'd designed all sorts of gear for just this occasion: gas masks with built-in infrared, forcefields to repel smoke, antidote serums . . . all of it back in the Lair on the other side of town.

_I didn't even bring the dehydration gun!_

Now the voices grew loud and frightened as people found they couldn't get out. The air was hot and thick, and the red glow of the EXIT signs turned the auditorium into a smoky Hell. In another minute, people would start to panic, and once that happened, once they let fear take over –

Megamind swung himself onto the stage, and grabbed the microphone. "Citizens, listen to me! This is your city's defender speaking!" It worked. The audience quieted, and their eyes were on him. "We'll return to your shed-yuled act for the evening –" Then he noticed Music Man had made himself scarce. _Damn it, the one time I could have used his help! _"- Okay, maybe not. But we can still have fun!" He rubbed his chin in thought for a moment. "Perhaps a magic trick?"

"Go for it, sir!" Minion called from the front row.

Megamind grinned, relieved that his friend understood what he was trying to do. "As the audience wishes." He reached for the disguise generator (there was being underprepared, and there was just going out _naked_), and turned the dial to a new setting.

It wasn't a true hologram, but an adaptation of the tech he'd used on the invisible car. They were still having trouble with it – a person _moved _in ways a car didn't – but in the low light, it would pass. Before the audience's eyes, Megamind disappeared, microphone and all.

_Keep them calm. Entertain them. If they think it's a show, they won't be afraid. _

He remembered the battle at the train station. The people trapped down on the platforms had been terrified, and when their hearts raced and their systems sped up, the hallucinogenic gas worked so much faster. Nobody had died, thanks to some fast work with fan-carrying brainbots and soothing Muzak, but dozens had been injured when they fell down stairs, or jumped onto the tracks, or attacked each other in their delusions. And the villain . . .

In a whirl of smoke, he appeared.

Megamind had only met a few humans who truly _unnerved _him, but Psycho Delic was one of them. The man's skin was the dark, blotchy purple of an acid burn. He was skeleton-thin, and what flesh he had looked dry and shriveled. As he sauntered up the aisle, a deep, rattling, sinister beat – disco blended with metal – rose from the speakers. Even before the lyrics started, Megamind recognized the song: White Zombie's cover of "I'm Your Boogie Man".

"Oh, _really_," the currently-invisible hero sneered. Thanks to the microphone, his voice rose above the music, and seemed to come from everywhere. "You couldn't have used the classic version?"

"I _do_ apologize for the low production value," Psycho Delic drawled, his voice deep and smoky. "Y'see, I find myself a little understaffed these days." He turned up the wide brim of his hat, and red light suddenly flashed behind his dark glasses. To the alien's surprise, those red eyes – if they _were _eyes, and Megamind had his own theories about that – focused directly on his invisible self. "But you already know that, don't you, Boy Blue?"

"What do you want, Psycho Dey-lic? In case you haven't noticed, this is a private party, and your name was _not _on the door list!"

"Oh, we got _plenty _of things to talk about." In one hand, the purple wraith idly twirled a jewel-topped cane. "Gettin' my colleagues released is only the start."

"I don't negotiate with the likes of _you._"

"But you _will, _Boy Blue." Psycho Delic's grin was like something out of an ancient sarcophagus. "Unless you want these folks in here to start eating each other alive."

Hot Flash, in Megamind's experience, had been the best banterer in the Doom Syndicate. Psycho Delic was far too morbid, but he'd have to make the best of it. "That's not going to happen. They'll find the sweet flavor of triumph _much _tastier."

"Except you're in here with 'em." He pointed the cane perfectly in Megamind's direction, the jewel glinting red. "The magic's gonna take a little while to work on that big brain, but when it does, you're gonna find all your worst nightmares coming true."

"Hah! Even the most terrifying nightmare can be suppressed by the sleeping pill of justice!"

"You tell him!" someone in the back yelled.

Psycho Delic whirled around. For the first time, he seemed to notice that the audience still _was _an audience, and watching not in terror, but in interest. His toothy grin turned into a snarl.

By now Megamind could taste the gas in the back of his throat – oily and noxiously sweet, like rotten fruit. Staying calm would slow its effects, but it wouldn't stop them completely. It was time to end this.

He switched off the invisibility disguise and hopped down from the stage, mic still in hand. "Do you know why I never worked with you? Or any of your 'friends'? It's because your little syndicate has no sense of _style._" He swept one arm dramatically, wishing he'd worn a cape tonight. "Bluntly threatening a group of random citizens – not that you're not all fine people!" he called to the audience.

Several voices cheered back, and he saw one brave person even do a fist pump.

"So you see, Mister Boagie Man, _you_ _have_ _no_ _power_ _here_. Be gone, before somebody –"

"We _are _gonna talk, Boy Blue." The red lights of Psycho Delic's glasses suddenly darted to one side. Before Megamind could react, he lashed out with his cane, knocked someone to the floor, and hauled them up sharply. "For _her _sake."

For one moment Megamind was relieved – _It's not Roxanne! _– until he got a good look at the figure the purple wraith had grabbed. It was the girl he'd met last week, Lucia Reyes.

The one Alicia had said just moved to Metro City.

Psycho Delic fled down the aisle with his hostage, lifting her easily despite his bony frame. Dropping the microphone, Megamind hurried over to Minion. "Okay. Code: _get everyone out of here. _He'll have henchmen waiting outside –"

"– But I'll deal with them. Got it, sir."

"Good. If any brainbot patrols are nearby, call them in." Around them, people were already getting up. Roxanne – oh, brilliant Roxanne! – had covered her nose and mouth with her jacket, and was telling others to do the same. He heard Danielle's voice, saying something about another exit backstage. "Now, code: I'm going after him."

Minion reached for something behind his back. "Then, code: take this with you." Megamind's heart leapt as he felt the familiar shape of the dehydration gun. "I know you didn't want to bring it tonight, but I thought, just in case . . ."

"Oh, you fantastic fish, you!" He gave his friend a quick one-armed hug, and then raced down the aisle.

At the far back corner of the auditorium, Megamind remembered, was a stairwell. And – yes, the door had just slammed closed! They were headed for the basement, where, the ex-villain's mental list told him, there was one "real" exit and at least three potential ones. He knew it would be wiser to wait for backup; there might be anything, or anyone, waiting down there.

But Psycho Delic had taken a hostage _who didn't know the rules. _The girl might panic, or try to fight back, and then there was no telling what he'd do. What made the villain so dangerous was how _unpredictable _he was.

Entering the stairwell was like falling into a vat of ink. There should have been emergency lights, but there was only solid, absolute _black_. And yet he could hear footsteps going down – apparently, Psycho Delic could find his way in complete darkness. _And he could see me when I was invisible. The glasses! Some form of infrared? Have to examine them later. _

But first he had to catch him. The alien's low-light vision was better than a human's, but that didn't help when there was _no _light. Megamind swept one boot-tip across the floor, found the step, and cautiously felt his way down, keeping the gun ready. God, he hoped it was still set on "dehydrate" . . .

Until weeks later, he didn't know what caused it. But suddenly, just for a moment, there was light in the stairwell. Just enough to soften the absolute darkness, and outline the world in gray shadows.

Just long enough for Megamind to set the de-gun, take aim, and fire.

Brilliant aqua light flooded the stairwell. The sound of the gun startled Psycho Delic – he let go of his hostage, and a moment later Lucia collapsed as a dehydrated cube clattered to the floor beside her.

Megamind's first impulse was to cheer – he'd finally captured the last of the Doom Syndicate! – but he stopped as he looked at the young girl, huddled and shaking on the floor. If he'd been Metro Man, he could have scooped her up and flown her to safety without a word. If there'd only been _someone _else around, he could have let them do the talking. But it was just the two of them, except for the dehydrated Psycho Delic, who wasn't exactly chatty.

After a long, awkward moment, he knelt down beside her. ". . . Are you okay?"

Lucia nodded. "M'neck hurts." She sat up now, rubbing her throat where her captor had choked her with her own necklace.

Megamind peered closer. "It doesn't look bad. Can you get up?"

She nodded again, and pulled herself up on the banister as Megamind grabbed the cube. Its rippling blue glow was the only light now, making it seem as if they were deep underwater. As she looked at it, Lucia stopped shaking, and her eyes widened. "Did you kill him?"

Megamind couldn't help chuckling at how _eager _she sounded. "No, he's just dehydrated. Once he's behind bars, some water will bring him back." Using the cube as a light, he pointed up the stairs. "Come on, let's go find your parents."

The lights were already coming back on as they left the auditorium.

#-#-#-#-#

In a darkened alcove backstage, Music Man sat listening as the last of the audience filed out. Although the gas had no effect on him, he was shaking faintly.

_At least I didn't run away._ But the thought didn't make him feel any better.

His mind kept going back to that day at the schoolhouse, almost two years ago. He hadn't realized just how bad the "Tighten situation" was until afterward, when Megamind had already saved the day. It had been easy to tell himself that if he _had _known, he would have stepped in. Until tonight, he'd almost believed it.

Spending time away from his old life had been . . . he guessed "therapeutic" was the right word. In the months after he'd consciously made himself stop using his powers, he'd been amazed at how much _healthier_ he felt. The gray hair that had first appeared when he was thirty had stopped spreading, and the lines in his face had actually softened. The change was so great that he'd started to wonder about some things.

It was therapeutic, but as the months had gone by, it was also lonely_. _Working on his music had given him plenty of time alone with his thoughts, and he'd realized that, while he didn't miss being a hero, there were still many things from the past he wanted to _talk _about.

Many times, he'd thought about getting back in touch with his former nemesis. But the time had never seemed right, and he'd also wanted to give them some space – to let Megamind establish himself as a hero, to give him and Roxanne time to work things out. And then, finally, this chance had come.

Okay, so he shouldn't have expected them to be friends from the start. And he should have taken the hint that the little guy wanted to be alone with his girl. But still, the cold welcome Music Man had received last week . . . well, it had _hurt. _He'd hoped if tonight went well, things might get better between them. But instead he'd hidden back here at the first sign of trouble, telling himself he'd step in if things got bad enough, and knowing it was a lie. God, they were going to _hate_ him –

"Hey. Are you okay?"

Music Man looked up suddenly. Standing in front of him was a woman he'd noticed earlier, helping Roxie and Minion guide people out. Late twenties, maybe. Short (okay, pretty much everyone was short compared to him, but short even for that) and dark-skinned, with bright black eyes.

"Uh . . . yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure? You were shaking pretty bad a moment ago." She gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "Do you need any help? Our doctor's looking people over, and there'll be paramedics coming soon –"

"Really, I'm okay." He forced himself to smile. "Thanks, though."

She covered her eyes with one hand, shaking her head. "Man, I am so, so sorry about this! Your big live debut . . ."

"I'm not too upset." He got to his feet, and this time his smile was genuine. "This'll just mean more publicity. People will _definitely_ remember my debut now."

She laughed softly. "You've got a point there!" After a quiet moment, he saw her expression change. "Say, would you feel better if we got out of here? There's a coffee place a few blocks away."

He knew it was stupid even as he said it. He didn't even have a _story _planned. But the night was a wreck, and he couldn't face Roxanne and Megamind right now, and she was pretty, and she was smiling at him in the warm, hopeful way no one had done in two years, even though he hadn't done anything to deserve it. And . . . she'd asked him if he needed help. _Who_ _asks_ _the_ _invincible_ _man_ _if_ _he_ _needs_ _help_?

"I'd love that."

"Great!" She pushed back a tuft of curly hair. "I'm Danielle, by the way. Danielle Dymond. Should I keep calling you Music Man, or . . . ?"

"Nah, my name's Wayne. Wayne Sc- . . . uh, I –"

"Wayne Skye?" She shrugged as they headed out. "I don't know why you bother with a stage name. That one's really nice on its own."

#-#-#-#-#

Out in the hall, Roxanne saw them leave.

_So much for a very long talk. _Still, it was kind of a relief. After everything that had just happened, she wasn't in the mood to hash things out. Now that they knew how to contact Wayne, she could get hold of him some other time.

As Megamind had predicted, Psycho Delic's henchmen, hooded figures in ragged purple and gray, had been waiting outside. But there weren't many of them – the villain had told the truth about being understaffed – and it hadn't been hard for Minion to dispatch them while Roxanne and the others led people to safety.

At first, they'd herded everyone out of the building and onto the street. But the night was chilly, and by now some had wandered back in, sitting around to watch as brainbots cleared out the smoke. From what they could tell, the hallucinogens hadn't taken full effect on anybody, but they'd urged people to stay until the paramedics came, just to be sure.

As Roxanne walked by the clinic office, there was a loud squawk of pain. When the Reyes family came out soon after, Lucia was rubbing her arm and looking mutinous. "Dijiste que no habría agujas!"

"Lucita, él sólo sacó un poco de sangre," her mother chided. "No es gran cosa. Es para estar seguro de que las toxinas no hacerte daño." Her expression softened, and she hugged her daughter. "Fuiste muy, muy valiente esta noche."

"Y los héroes necesitan ese valor para mantener su fuerza," Mr. Reyes added. He looked at his family with a smile, and asked, "El valor, y tal vez del helado?" _That_ cheered Lucia up, and the three of them left.

_Looks like they've adapted to Metro City just fine, _Roxanne thought wryly, but something was bothering her. Her Spanish was rusty, but she was sure she'd gotten the gist of their conversation: "aguja" was "needle", "saco" was "he took", and "sangre", of course, was "blood". No wonder Lucia was mad. She hoped nothing was wrong – the girl looked healthy enough, but then, Roxanne wasn't a doctor.

In the lobby, she could see Megamind talking to the police, having handed over the dehydrated Psycho Delic. She couldn't hear what he was saying, but from all the sweeping gestures, he was no doubt making a grand tale of it.

As soon as he saw her, however, he raced over. "Roxanne, can you believe it? _We did it!_ Admittedly it took months, but _we did it!_ Three out of three down, another daring rescue . . . do you hear me? _WE DID IT!_"

"I know!" she cheered back. "Fist pump!" They sprang into each other's arms, and the police, wisely, decided to move on and take statements from witnesses.

As Megamind pressed his cheek against hers, Roxanne hugged him close, running her hands over his body, assuring herself that her beloved was whole and well. It was always nerve-wracking for her to be on the scene at one of his battles. She had faith in him, but all it would take was one mistake . . .

But that hadn't happened tonight. Tonight they'd won not only a battle, but a months-long war. The hug turned into a kiss, which turned into an open-mouthed kiss, which grew more heated as they rode the thrill of being alive and victorious . . . god, she hoped everything would be over soon, so they could go home and "celebrate".

He broke the kiss long enough to breathe against her ear, "Do you know where Music Mahn is?"

"Mmh, could you not say his name when you're kissing me?" But he kept waiting, so she answered, "He's fine. I saw him leave a few minutes ago." She smirked. "With company."

"Oh? He's collected groo-pees already?"

"Maybe. He was with Mrs. Sanders's assistant."

"With . . . " Megamind's happy, kiss-drunk look disappeared. "You don't mean _Danielle?"_

"Mm-hm. I was surprised too, but they looked –"

She stopped as Megamind let go of her. As she watched, he doubled over, hands clamped over his mouth. But it wasn't enough. His shoulders trembled, and finally he threw his head back as cackling laughter burst out. It wasn't a full-on Evil Laugh, but it was in serious danger of becoming one.

"Honey, it makes me nervous when you get like this." Actually it amused her, but she still wondered. "What's so funny?"

He wiped tears out of one eye. "Of all the women, all the _people, _that he could have chosen . . ."

Now Roxanne actually was getting worried. "Is something wrong with her?"

Megamind grinned. "I've had to work with her all winter, Roxanne. Let me tell you something about the dear Miss Dymond . . ."

#-#-#-#-#

"So what brought you to the concert tonight?" Wayne asked, as he settled down into one end of the comfy couch under the window. To his relief, his new companion hadn't said anything about him ordering tea – he'd never liked the taste of coffee, and since caffeine did nothing for him, it made no difference.

"Well, I work at the center, and the director wanted all of us there. She's my aunt, so she's pretty hard to say no to." Danielle leaned back against the other arm of the couch. "I would have gone anyway, though. I like your stuff."

"Always nice to meet a fan." On the walk over, Wayne had decided he'd get her to do as much of the talking as possible. As long as she did, he wouldn't risk giving anything away. "Is the center kind of a family business, then?"

"No, it's just Aunt Alicia and me, and I'm pretty new. It's been . . ." she counted quickly in her head, "almost two years now."

"So what did you do before that?"

Danielle looked down at her coffee. "Promise you won't freak out?"

He tried to make the Scout sign, couldn't remember how, and settled for 'ok' instead. "Promise."

". . . I was a cop."

Far from being freaked out, Wayne was suddenly much more at ease. The police had been some of Metro Man's biggest fans – they should have been, given how often he did their job for them. "See, that sounds a lot more interesting than working at some little community center. What made you give it up?"

". . . Can we talk about something else?" She scooted closer on the couch. "I want to hear about _you, _mister up-and-coming music man. I got the impression music's kind of a new calling for you?"

"You got it right." He took a long drink of tea, to give himself time to phrase things. "It's always been a hobby, but I only made a full-time thing of it recently."

"So what did you do before that?"

_Walked right into that one. _"I was . . . in the service."

It was the wrong thing to say. Because Danielle immediately took interest, and started asking more questions. "Really? What branch? Army? Air Force?"

"Actually it was . . . kind of a Special Ops type of thing." He whispered behind one hand, "I'm not at liberty to talk about it yet."

To his relief, she seemed to accept that. "I should have guessed." Her expression softened. "Is that what was going on back at the center? Bad memories?"

". . . In a way."

She shrugged. "I was just curious because I'm kind of a military brat myself. My dad was in the Air Force for a while. He actually met my mom when he was stationed in the Philippines." She toyed with the insulating ring on her coffee cup. "So hopefully now you won't ask."

Too late, Wayne realized she'd whispered that last sentence to herself, and a normal human shouldn't have been able to hear it. "Won't ask what?"

Danielle flinched. "Nothing." But then she sighed. ". . . Okay, guess we might as well get this over with." She set her cup down, not meeting his eyes. "I'm mixed, and I know I look it. So sooner or later, most guys end up asking me 'what are you?'. Even when they don't come out and say it sometimes, I can tell they want to. It's like –"

"– Like you're not a person," Wayne said softly. "Like you're some mythical creature they want to pick apart and label." The people of Metro City might have loved him, but he still had plenty of memories of questioning fans, and scientists, and reporters who weren't as polite as Roxanne Ritchi. "And sure, they don't mean any harm, but it still gets to you after a while."

Realizing Danielle was staring at him, he quickly added, "I mean, I imagine it does! But hey, it's your life, what do I know?"

"No, man, it's okay. You just described it pretty damn well."

"If it makes you feel any better," he went on, "at least you _know _where you come from. Me, I was adopted. I don't know anything about my birth family, and my adopted parents . . . well, even before they died, we weren't that close." _Please don't let her ask any more, please don't let her ask any more . . ._

But Danielle didn't. "You've got a point. Guess we've all got problems, don't we?"

"Guess we do."

They sat in silence for a moment, and then Danielle shook her head and gave a quiet, embarrassed laugh. "This really isn't like me. I mean, it's only the first date and I'm already spilling my guts about my family issues –"

"Hey, it's okay. Sometimes you gotta spill." He sipped the last of his tea. "So . . . this _is _a date?"

"I guess. Kinda."

". . . Are you thinking about a second kinda-date?"

"I am if you are." That warm, hopeful smile was back. "I like you, Wayne. You're really easy to talk to."

"And you," he said, turning on his most charming grin, "are a Dymond in the rough."

"Yeah, like I never heard _that _one before." But she was smiling as she said it.

**_To be continued . . ._**


	3. Chapter 3

At this point, I think there's going to be about six chapters total (I had a format in mind when I started), but they'll be _long_ chapters.

**Title**: Life Is What Happens (3/?)

**Author**: Lady Stormcrow

**Rating**: PG-13

**Word** **Count**: 10,000-ish.

**Summary**: In this chapter, the situation gets dark and urgent, and goes downhill from there. Be warned, it's a pretty big mood whiplash from the last two chapters, but there _will _be answers before the story's done.

**Warnings: **More sexytimes references, a lot of angst, one f-bomb, and (say it with me now) _tonight someone dies! _

**Chapter 3**

_Laurie Bryant finished her dinner. _

_She was always the first one finished, no matter how much they put on her tray, and she'd keep on eating if they gave her more. They remarked on that sometimes when they tested her, wondering if it was a side effect. Maybe it was – she didn't know. She just knew food had been a rare thing in her life until now. _

_Here, nobody spent the grocery money on drugs. She didn't have to shoplift or dig through the trash, the way she had after they were kicked out and Dad and Kristy abandoned her. And she had a real, clean bed again, and she didn't have to worry about keeping warm. _

_Though, now that she thought about it, she'd never had a problem keeping warm. _

_She also liked being able to watch movies again. The TV in the common room didn't have cable, but sometimes the guards would bring them recordings of shows – with all the news and commercials cut out. That was weird, and worrying, but she lived with it. _

_What she couldn't live with was that one guard. He hated all of them, but since James was as tall as he was and Violet scared everybody, Laurie was the one he picked on. Called her names, said she had an attitude problem, and once, when it was time for lights-out and she didn't want to stop watching a movie, he'd grabbed her by the hair and tried to drag her to her room. James had got between them and warned the guard he'd tell on him if he didn't leave her alone. That Laurie, like the rest of them, was special, while you could hire new guards anytime. _

_It was an empty threat and they all knew it. But the guard let her go, and hadn't tried to grab her since. He glared at her all the time, though, and she could tell he was just waiting for an excuse. _

Fuck _that noise, Laurie thought. It was nice of James to stick up for her, but she could take care of herself. Even if she did get thrown in the Tank, it'd be worth it. _

_The next time that guard tried to push her around, he was gonna _**burn. **

#-#-#-#-#

"But there won't _be _a next time!" Megamind insisted. His hands made wild circles in the air for emphasis. "You were there, you saw it! I _won!_ All of the Doom Syndicate's leaders are locked away!"

Alicia Sanders folded her arms across her chest. Her voice was low and cool as she said, "Funny, I don't recall that ever stopping _you._"

Ordinarily it would have stung for Alicia, whose opinion he had come to value, to remind him of his villainous past. But the blue genius was still excited over Saturday's victory, and it would take more than that to spoil his good mood. "Ah, but you forget! They lack both my highly superior intellect _and_ my loyal robotic assistants. Together they were a threat, but kept separate," he scoffed, "they're nothing but want-to-bes."

Alicia rolled her eyes. "You mean 'wannabes'?"

"That's what I said."

"And what _I'm _saying is, we should step up the security." She leaned against the front counter. "Look, it was your idea to make the center a 'safe place'. And it was off to a good start, don't get me wrong. But after what's happened, folks aren't gonna feel safe anymore unless you _do _something."

Megamind hesitated. ". . . They actually said that?"

She nodded. "Not those exact words, but I've asked around, and that's the gist of it." Seeing his crestfallen look, she smiled. "It doesn't have to be anything fancy. Just something so people can _see_ you're looking out for them. Maybe you could lend us some of those 'loyal robotic assistants' to keep guard?"

"I thought you were afraid of them?" Megamind recalled that when the renovations to the community center had started, although the director was glad for the brainbots' help, she'd always kept a careful distance from them.

Alicia shrugged. "They grow on you. Kinda remind me of a bulldog mix I once had."

"Nevertheless, I'm sure I can come up with something better." His brilliant green eyes scanned the lobby, checking the high windows and double doors. A moment later, the idea took shape. "Yes . . . misdirection is what we need! Some large, obvious scanners here by the doors –" he all but flew over to the spot in question, "will draw the eye of an evildoer, while inside, a hidden alert system waits to incapacitate . . ." He stopped as he saw the lookAlicia was giving him. ". . . Oh fine, to _warn _those with hostile intent. I can disguise it as a charming piece of artwork, perhaps." He stroked his goatee in thought. "The question now is, how do we sense that hostile intent?"

It occurred to Megamind that he'd never created a device that could read minds. He'd dabbled in mind _control_, of course, and memory modification, with varying degrees of success. But he'd never had a use for mind-reading by itself. The person whose thoughts he had been most interested in was Metro Man, and Megamind had usually known what _he _was thinking: how to foil his latest evil plan. Ordinary people's thoughts hadn't mattered enough for him to make the effort.

Maybe it was time to correct that. Although . . . he remembered the fiasco with the camera-bots last fall. If people didn't like being watched, even by a hero, they'd probably like having their minds probed even less. Had that evil big brother they spoke of tried to do something similar? Well, he'd deal with the ethical and privacy concerns once he knew if the science could even work.

"What do you think of this?" He grabbed a Post-It pad from behind the desk, and was sketching a map of the human neural pathways to show Alicia his idea, when the front door opened.

The newcomer was a plump, pretty Hispanic woman, with black hair neatly pinned up. She looked familiar, though Megamind couldn't place her at the moment. Her voice was soft as she asked, "Mrs. Sanders?"

Alicia looked up from his sketch – a little too quickly, the alien thought – and beamed at the newcomer. "Mrs. Reyes, good evening! I hope the rest of your weekend wasn't too exciting?"

_Now _Megamind recognized her. Lucia's mother. After he'd rescued her daughter on Saturday night, she and her husband had _stared _at him, and then hurried the girl away without even a 'thank you'. He'd shrugged it off at the time – he'd had other things to deal with, and in any case, they weren't the first people who'd ever reacted that way. But that didn't mean he had _liked _it.

She was avoiding his gaze now as she spoke to Alicia. "Yes, thank you. I need to pick up Lucia. She's –"

"– In the music class, I know. I'll go get her."

As she left, Megamind realized with a sinking feeling that he was now alone with Mrs. Reyes, who was standing by the front desk, looking uncomfortable. He went back to sketching again, to spare them both discomfort.

". . . Mister Megamind?"

"Yes?" He didn't look up.

"I . . . I know we never thanked you. That night. For saving our daughter."

He still didn't look up, but his mouth twitched in a smile. "Don't worry about it. I was merely performing my usual heroic duties."

". . . Lucia was very excited to move here, you know. A city with its own superhero." In her accent, 'super' came out 'sou-pair'.

"That's nice." He hoped Alicia would be back soon.

But it was more than ten minutes before she came downstairs. When she did, her face was tight and worried, and she was alone.

"She's not there."

It was amazing how three words could so completely change everything.

"That's not possible," Mrs. Reyes exclaimed. "She was looking forward to it!"

Megamind's eyes narrowed. "Director, are you _sure?" _

"_Yes! _That's why I took so long, I was asking around. Nobody's seen her all afternoon." Her face turned an ashy gray as she caught the blue hero's expression. "You don't think . . ."

"I think that _exactly._" He was already reaching for his communicator, turning it on, calling for the brainbots. As his blood chilled and his mind locked into action, he was aware of the director's voice nearby, assuring Mrs. Reyes that it would be all right, that Lucia had probably just gotten lost. _Oh Alicia, don't lie. _

This was worse than the attack two nights ago. This was exactly what he'd been trying to keep from happening – but now it had happened _again, _right under his incredibly handsome nose! And, god, to the same child he'd _just_ rescued . . .

Outside, the glow of plasma domes told him backup had arrived. He turned to Mrs. Reyes. "Do you have any pictures of her? _Recent _ones?"

She dug frantically through her purse. "Here, this is from last month." The photo showed Lucia standing in a kitchen, smiling and holding up a cardboard box. "When we were still moving in –"

"Perfect." Megamind grabbed the photo and shoved it into the optics of the clustered brainbots. "Everyone, this is Loosh-" Oh god, this was _not _the time for his otherwise magnificent brain to glitch on pronunciation! ". . . _Loo-see-ah _Reyes. Now _find_ her. Do you hear me? _Find this girl!_"

#-#-#-#-#

The search dragged on as night fell. While the brainbots scoured the neighborhood, Megamind called in the police – he hated asking for help, but needed all he could get right now – and started tracing Lucia Reyes's last known steps.

Her mother had seen her leave for school that morning. She said they'd parted on good terms, and nothing had seemed wrong. The staff at John Franklin Middle School reported that she'd been in class as usual, and people had seen her leave just after three o'clock. From there, she should have walked roughly six blocks to the community center – except she'd never arrived.

It was a better, fresher trail than they'd had with any of the past disappearances, but that wasn't saying much. When he was Lucia's age, Megamind had sometimes read detective novels when he was especially bored. He'd amused himself by reading them from the other side, so to speak – seeing what mistakes the criminals made that gave them away, and how to avoid that. He'd been confident he could outwit any of the human detectives in those stories (and, once he'd made his start as a supervillain, he'd usually _wanted_ people to know he was responsible for a crime). But now, as they searched the streets between the school and the center, he wished he had someone like Sherlock Holmes or Phillip Marlowe or Sam Vimes on his side. He had only the most abstract idea of what he was looking for, and because of that, _anything_ could be a clue.

As for witnesses . . . there had been a number of people out and about during the time when he judged Lucia had been taken. But nobody they questioned remembered seeing her, or had noticed any suspicious vehicles loitering around. And nobody had heard any kind of a struggle.

Finally, late in the evening, they spoke to the clerk at a grocery store on the corner. The young man told them that, around three-thirty, he had gone out to the alley to dump trash. Just as he'd opened the back door, he'd heard a sound "like a rocket or something".

The police didn't think much of it. But it was the best clue Megamind had found in months.

#-#-#-#-#

"He's using one of the bikes?"

"Exactly, Minion."

After it became clear that there was nothing more he could do out on the scene, Megamind had called his fishy sidekick and explained the situation. By the time he arrived back at the Lair, Minion, following his instructions, had printed out a mega-sized map of the East Side and spread it over a table in the "idea room". He'd also, to his boss's relief, brewed more coffee.

Megamind paced around the table now, coffee mug in one hand and a dry-erase marker in the other. "Why didn't I think of it before? It explains _everything!_" Flicking the cap off the marker, he drew red circles around the school and the community center. "I can see it now. The kidnapper landed _here,_" he drew a red dash through the alley behind the grocery store, "sometime in the afternoon. When Lucia left shool, she'd have had to walk _this_ way." He drew a path along the streets. "He waited until she passed by, grabbed her, and was up and away –" he made the marker swoop upward to illustrate, "– before anyone saw a thing. And they _wouldn't _have seen anything, because what common passerby looks _up?_"

"And he probably drugged her once she was close enough," Minion added. "Maybe some knockout spray. Even chloroform would work, if he surprised her." After ten years of practice, the fish knew better than most about staging a quick-and-quiet kidnapping.

"I know." The blue hero rubbed his brow miserably. ". . . How could this have happened? God, he's using _my own technology! _And –"

"Sir, you didn't know."

"Exactly!"

"I mean, you _couldn't _have known." Minion laid a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "If a criminal uses a getaway car, is it the car company's fault for making it?"

Megamind didn't answer him. He looked down into his coffee, thinking of the two dozen names and photos on the bulletin board. Thinking of Lucia Reyes, who he didn't really _know _but who he'd already saved once, which had to count for something. Thinking of her parents . . . when he'd left them, Mrs. Reyes had been crying, and Mr. Reyes, who'd left work as soon as they called him, had looked like he might cry too.

So many people were depending on him, and he'd let this happen. And, oh god, _the press. _Once this got out, they were going to _savage _him. Poor Roxanne would try to defend him, he knew, but she couldn't silence everyone.

Oh, how he wished she was here tonight.

"Look at it this way, Sir," Minion finally went on. "At least now we have something to go on."

". . . Yes." Megamind straightened up. "Yes, we do. How long has the commer-see-al hoverbike been on the market?"

"Fourteen months, Sir. Remember, you wanted it out in time for Christmas, but there were licensing problems?"

_The timing even fits! _"And how many have they sold?"

"I . . . don't know." Minion hesitated. "I kinda stopped counting after five hundred."

Megamind took a long drink. "No matter. Five hundred suspects are better than zero." He drew some more lines on the map as he thought. "First thing tomorrow, Minion, call the manufacturer and get the names of everyone, and I mean _anyone,_ who bought one of the bikes." His friend looked overwhelmed at the prospect, so he explained, "Then, code: have the computer cross-check them. Look for criminal records, unusual business dealings – anything _suspicious._"

Minion tilted in his dome. "Sounds like you've got someone in mind."

"A _type _of someone, yes." Megamind set his coffee down and leaned on the table. "This fellow doesn't think of himself as a villain. He's careful not to leave any calling cards. I imagine he'd be happiest if we had no idea he existed. And his crimes aren't personal – once he kidnaps a child, he never contacts their family, even to send a taunting letter." His frown deepened. "He's probably after money. He _has _money, if he can afford a hoverbike, but he wants more. I suspect he's –" and he gritted his teeth at the thought, " – _trafficking _them somehow."

They had sent Lucia's description out to the airports and train stations, but Megamind knew that in the two hours before they realized she was missing, she could already be far outside the city. For the kidnapper's sake, he hoped she and the other kids were alive and well, wherever they were. If not . . . but heroes couldn't think that way.

Midnight came and went, but Megamind was too restless to sleep. So he dosed himself with more caffeine, and went out to patrol. If crime never slept, why should he?

#-#-#-#-#

On Saturday, after she and Megamind had finished celebrating – twice – Roxanne had warned her boyfriend that she'd be scarce this upcoming week. With the Doom Syndicate finally brought down, the news would be shifting focus to new stories, and that meant lots of research and preliminary work for her. And, with only a few weeks until her scheduled move-out date, she badly needed to catch up on packing.

Over the next few days, they talked by phone when they could. Roxanne felt terrible about not being there when he was in the middle of a stressful case, but at the same time, she knew it wouldn't do any good to distract him. And he hadn't actually _asked _her to come over – only said that he missed her. Well, she missed him too, but she really did need to get this done.

Tonight, as she finally finished work and returned to her apartment, she was fuming at her landlord. She'd given him her move-out notice two weeks ago, but the man had taken _forever _to reply, and when he had, he'd made noise about keeping her security deposit because of "supervillain damage". Roxanne had been quick to point out that neither Megamind nor Minion had _ever _damaged her apartment – that wasn't part of the game. In fact, they'd only kidnapped her from home as a last resort, since it usually wasn't hard to find her in public.

She was tempted to call Megamind now, just to have someone to complain to. But she knew if she told him, he'd want to go after the person who hurt her, and as cute as it was when he got protective, she really did want to handle the move by herself. Though, if her landlord didn't give up, she still might _threaten _him with the prospect of being mauled by brainbots . . .

For now, she made herself busy, emptying drawers and closets, sorting and cataloguing what she found. The task itself wasn't hard – Roxanne was an organized person by nature. But, as she packed up her old life, she realized that there was a lot of it she wouldn't _need _now. The bed she and Megamind had designed was bigger and comfier than her one here, and her red couch didn't exactly match the Lair's décor. It was tempting to get rid of some of it . . . but it was _hers, _and the Lair had plenty of storage space.

In the back of the closet, she found the worst offender. There, neatly packed in a storage bin, were the handlebars, gages, and scraps of yellow metal that were all that remained of the scooter she'd once owned.

_Why did I keep __**this?**_ She hadn't even been living here when that Mechagodzilla rip-off (Megamind had called it the Destruct-O-Saur, but she hadn't been fooled) stomped it. It had been extremely clear that there was no chance of repairing it. But . . . the scooter had been a graduation present from her father. So she'd picked up the pieces, and when Calvin Ritchi had died a few years later, she'd kept them, even when she changed apartments, for the sake of his memory.

Thinking about that, and watching the darkening sky outside, Roxanne grew lonely. She thought about turning on the radio, but instead, after a long moment's thought, she reached for her cellphone.

_Might as well get started on this as well. _She checked the number she'd written down, and dialed. _Come on, Wayne, pick up . . ._

After several rings, it went to message, chirping about how she had reached Music Man, weaver of lyrical magic. _Damn it! _

Okay, calm down. So he hadn't picked up. That didn't mean he was _avoiding _her.

#-#-#-#-#

"Who is it?" Danielle Dymond asked mildly, from across the table.

Wayne Scott, currently going under the name Wayne Skye, didn't answer her right away. He watched the number on the ringing phone, hesitating, until it went to message. ". . . Nothing." He slipped the phone into his pocket, and leaned back against the booth. "I'll check it later. Anyway, what were you saying?"

"That I still can't believe you wanted to come here!" Giggling, she waved out at the noisy, colorful floor of Metro City's branch of the Hard Rock Café. "It's so . . . _touristy._"

"Hey, it was my turn to pick, and you said you'd never been. Besides, I've been in a touristy mood lately." It was strange. Wayne had lived in Metro City as long as he could remember – until he was fourteen, he'd believed he was born here. But only in the last year or so, after he'd faked his death and begun living as a normal person, had he really started to _enjoy _it. "Back when I was in the service, I was always so busy, I never got the chance to appreciate how great this city can be. It's like . . ." He searched for the right metaphor. "It's like being in love. Sometimes you get so used to a person that they seem kind of boring. But then something happens, and you really _see _them again, and you remember why you fell in love in the first place."

For a long moment, his silver-blue eyes locked with her coffee-black ones. Then Wayne broke the spell by reaching for his notebook. "You know, there's a song in there somewhere." Danielle watched with a grin as he scribbled.

Although it had been less than a week since they met, they'd already been on several more kinda-dates (as they both called them) since the night at the coffee shop. She seemed eager for any chance to talk to him, and get away from the community center. It was kind of pathetic – except that he'd found he was just as eager to talk to her, and get away from his solitary fortress under the schoolhouse. So at least they were pathetic together.

Wayne had forgotten how great it felt to be with someone who simply _liked _him. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd last been with someone who didn't expect him to solve her problems, and who wasn't impressed by his powers or his family's money . . .

. . . Because she didn't know he had them. That was the catch, wasn't it?

On their last kinda-date, she'd wanted to play basketball. She'd told him it was "sweet that you're okay with losing to a girl", not realizing that he'd lost on purpose. He'd been careful to make it close, so she wouldn't be suspicious, but in the end, he'd _had _to. That was the only way he could lose at _anything_.

But, to his surprise, he hadn't minded. Instead, he'd found himself watching Danielle as she played to win, fighting hard, leaping and diving until she almost seemed to fly . . . he knew the rush of heat he'd felt wasn't from exertion.

He still hadn't found out why she left the police force. He knew it wasn't smart for him to keep asking, in case she turned around and asked more about _his _past. That story about being an ex-serviceman "not at liberty to talk about it" had been a stroke of genius – it explained a lot, it _fascinated_ her, and it kept her from asking too many questions. But it wouldn't cover everything.

All the same, he wanted to _know_. Deciding to test the waters again, Wayne pointed his pencil at the half-a-Cadillac sticking out of the wall. "Remind you of anything?"

Danielle's full lips pursed. "Should it?"

"Well, you were on the force. You must've seen Metro Man and Megamind in action." He chuckled. "I remember, they'd toss cars around like –"

"Wayne, can we not talk about that?"

But he didn't back down. "You've made me curious, that's all." He leaned in closer, going for charm. "Dee, I _like _you. I want to know more. From what I've seen, you like action_. _Why would you give that up to sit behind a desk and file stuff?"

She twirled the ice in her glass. "Y'know, it's my turn to pick what we do next time." _Stop changing the subject,_ Wayne groaned inwardly. "There's this bar near my place, that holds an open dance night on Saturdays. I haven't been in forever, but maybe it's time I started revisiting stuff too."

He dropped the pencil. ". . . Dancing?"

"Yeah. I thought you'd like that kinda thing?" Danielle chuckled softly at the big man's deer-in-the-headlights look. She reached over and clasped his hand. "I'll make you a deal. If you go dancing with me this weekend, I'll tell you why I quit the force."

It was a hard bargain, but he couldn't see a way out of it. And he really did want an answer. From what he could tell, she didn't sound _bitter _about her career change. Maybe she'd simply realized it wasn't the right path for her.

Maybe she'd given it up to pursue what she really wanted in life.

Maybe she could . . . understand?

On their way out through the souvenir shop, she bought a T-shirt. Wayne took that as a good sign.

#-#-#-#-#

It was a mistake to come here after two nights without sleep. It was probably a mistake to come here at all, in fact. But the connection was there, and he had to pursue _any _possible lead, if only for his own peace of mind.

Megamind adjusted the batwing collar of his favorite cape. On the other side of the window, two prison guards – he recognized old Leon, but the other fellow was new – escorted Psycho Delic to a chair. Stripped of his lavish costume, the villain was, if anything, _more _unnerving to look at. It made it easier to see just how impossibly skeletal he was, and his purple skin clashed horribly with the orange jumpsuit (Megamind smugly recalled that, since blue and orange were complementary, he'd looked quite fetching in his own prison garb).

And he was still wearing his dark glasses. Once they'd rehydrated him, the prison staff had found they couldn't take them away without being accused of cruel and unusual punishment. Megamind's theory had been right on the mark. Whatever had stained and withered Psycho Delic's flesh had also destroyed his eyes, and without the optic sensors implanted in the glasses, he was blind.

Those red points of light flickered. The villain's lipless mouth curled in a smirk as he saw his visitor. "Afternoon, Mister Blue. Feelin' homesick?"

"I'm going to make this very simple, _Simon._" Megamind was gratified to see the other man tense up, disappointed that he didn't get a 'that's not my name' out of him. "Why her?"

"Don't know what you're talkin' about." He calmly folded his cuffed hands in his bony lap. "You're gonna have to narrow it down."

"_Her._" The alien held up a copy of the photo Mrs. Reyes had given him. "You took her hostage on the night of your _in-_glorious defeat. Two days later, she disappears. It doesn't take a genius to think that's an awfully big coincidence."

"I'm flattered you think I'm so capable," Psycho Delic replied. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I've got no grudge against her. In the Syndicate, we're a forgiving sort."

"But why, out of all the people in the room that night, did you choose _her?_"

The purple wraith shrugged. "She was close by, and she was a cute lil' thing. I liked her necklace."

Megamind tapped two gloved fingers against his temple. "Nice try, but I don't forget _anything_." That wasn't true, but it sounded impressive. "That night, you said we had things to talk about, and not just about releasing your colleagues."

Psycho Delic gave a raspy chuckle. "And so we do. But I was talkin' about _you._" He leaned forward, his body language quiet and conspiratorial. "We in the Syndicate been watching you for a long time now. And like I said, we're a forgiving sort."

Megamind had a good idea now of where this was going, and tried not to laugh. "You do realize you're _in prison_, right?"

"Never stopped you." He flicked one hand dismissively at the white cinderblock walls. "We're only gonna be in here as long as we like. The Syndicate's bigger than even your big brain knows."

_Liar. _"Even if that were true, what makes you think that I would _ever _join you?"

"Because you belong with us." The villain's voice was soft, and almost sad. "You think playin' hero means they'll ever _really_ let you be one of 'em?_" _His glasses dimmed to a faint red glow, like a dying star. "I can see what you're dreamin'. You think you're finally gonna be _normal. _Maybe you think you'll settle down with your little reporter gal. Move to the suburbs, raise up some blue children. Live happily ever after." Psycho Delic shook his head. "That ain't how life works for our kind. The farther you go down that road, the more it's gonna hurt when you fail." His teeth showed as he finished, "_Johnny._"

When Megamind finally spoke again, his voice was a cold whisper. "I've never let failure stop me before." He nodded to Leon and his partner, who moved to escort the prisoner away. "And I was _never _one of your kind."

Once all three of them were gone, the blue man finally let himself start shivering. He _knew _it had been a mistake to come here! If he'd been properly rested, he could have shrugged off Psycho Delic's words. How many times had he taunted his own captors that way, saying whatever he could think of, true or not, to push their buttons? It was part of the classic villain routine.

But in his current state – weary, frustrated, and running on fumes mentally and physically – it was too much. How had the purple boogeyman read him so well? It had been bad enough when Alicia guessed his feelings, but if even his _enemies_ could see it . . .

And how had Psycho Delic known his _name? _Well, that was easy enough. Here in the prison, there were still plenty of people who knew Megamind's childhood name – he could have taken it from any of them. Or maybe he'd simply _guessed. _It wasn't as if "Johnny" was uncommon.

He remembered what Roxanne had teased, that "Megamind" wasn't a real name. But it was the closest thing he had. He had no memory of his parents ever giving him a name – the words they had called him meant "baby" or "son". Perhaps his people did not name infants until they were more than eight days old. Perhaps his parents had wanted him to arrive in this new world with a clean cultural slate. Perhaps (and it was one of his worst fears) they _had _named him, and he had _forgotten_ it. There was so much about that part of himself that he simply didn't _know. _

Megamind had never been one for self-analysis. But now, he found himself thinking over Psycho Delic's words. The Doom Syndicate wanted him as a member? They actually thought he would go back to villainy if society didn't accept him?

. . . It was a stupid question.

He remembered what he'd told Roxanne that fateful day. _"I finally had a reason to win: you." _And he'd accepted the deal with the city, to be released from prison in exchange for becoming an official hero, because he'd found that he _liked _being a good guy, and it meant he'd get to go on winning.

Except it wasn't nearly that simple. The good guys won because they _had _to. If they let themselves lose, they weren't the only ones who would suffer.

The city had seemed eager to accept the new him – pathetically eager, really. They'd even rededicated the museum to him, when he'd barely done any heroic deeds to make exhibits of ("But you _will, _and we can fill it up over time," the museum committee had said). And yet . . . he doubted Metro Man had ever received hate mail mixed in with his fanmail.

And the rest of it . . . okay, the part about moving to the suburbs was wrong. For better or worse, the city was his home, and he doubted Roxanne would want to leave either. But everything else had been frighteningly close to his actual thoughts. And now, as he opened his mind and examined those thoughts, doubt came flooding in.

What if Roxanne didn't feel the same way? It was still hard to believe sometimes that she could love him – the _real _him, not a false human face. If he asked her to be his mate . . . what if that somehow brought her to her senses, and made her realize she was involved with an alien who had made a career out of ruining her life?

Once he was back at the Lair, Megamind made his way to the library corner and lay down on one of the couches. It brought back memories of his old life, when he'd work day and night on a project until he flopped on this couch – or, when he was too tired to make it that far, had simply curled up in his chair.

He wanted to sleep now. He _needed _to sleep. But doubt, like an icy needle, kept pricking him over and over, keeping him awake.

That was how Roxanne found him.

#-#-#-#-#

Her footsteps were soft on the concrete floor. She rested her forearms on the back of the couch and leaned over, peering down at him. Her bangs made a soft brown curtain in front of her eyes. "I know that look. You pulled another all-nighter, didn't you?"

He nodded. There was no point in denying it.

She smoothed her hair back. "Is there room for one more?"

He nodded again.

She walked around the couch, kicked off her shoes, and lay down beside him. His lean body curled against hers as he nuzzled the curve of her neck. With her help, he slid his gloves off, and dropped them with her shoes. When they'd first begun dating, he'd been so shy about touching her. He'd done it on impulse before, yes, but always with gloves on. Quiet, gentle, skin-to-skin contact was new to him. Once it had begun, though, and he'd accepted that she _wanted _him to touch her, he couldn't get enough.

She reached up and ran her fingers over his skull, rubbing in slow, widening circles. He'd been surprised, the first time she gave him a scalp massage, but now it was one of his favorite things. Not only for the physical pleasure, but as proof of how she _accepted _him, giant blue head and all.

"I missed you," she said, snuggling into his warmth. "I missed _here. _The loft doesn't feel like home anymore."

He smiled against her neck. "I love you."

Roxanne kissed his ear. "I love you too. And don't worry, we'll solve this."

Megamind reached up, running his fingers through the silky hair at the base of her head, starting to massage her the same way she was doing to him. It amused Roxanne, how much he loved playing with her hair – not having any of his own, it was a new experience.

They lay like that for some minutes, gently massaging each other, until Roxanne spoke again. "You know, there might be something else we could do for this case."

His eyes had drifted closed, but she could tell she'd caught his interest. "What did you have in mind?"

"We could start a media campaign." Roxanne shifted him a little so she could sit up. "Think about it. There's been some coverage about the disappearances, but not _enough_. If we can raise more awareness, get people to _care, _maybe we can make something happen."

"Mm, it's worth a try." He rested his head on her stomach. ". . . Roxanne?"

"Yes?'

"We never did have that special dinner."

She giggled softly at the memory. "I'd forgotten about that. Why don't we go out somewhere this weekend?"

He murmured something she couldn't hear. Then his breathing changed, and Roxanne realized he'd fallen asleep.

Smiling, she spread his cape over him like a blanket, and went to make some phone calls. "Nick? Hi, it's Roxanne. Listen, I know it's late, but I've got a new idea for a segment . . ."

#-#-#-#-#

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" she asked, two days later. "Remember, I can't _promise_ it will find your daughter."

"I understand," Maria Reyes replied. Her husband placed a comforting arm around her, and she hugged him – for his sake as much as hers. "But we have to _try. _If we don't, we will find nothing."

Roxanne chose her next words carefully. She knew the stereotype of the cutthroat journalist relentlessly asking questions, and that was exactly what she didn't want to be right now. "Try to talk about Lucia as a person. What are her hobbies? What TV shows does she like? That kind of thing. What's her favorite color?"

"Yellow and pink."

"That's a good start. If we can get people to _care _about her, someone might come forward who wouldn't otherwise."

As she escorted them down the hall, Roxanne thought bitterly about the other calls she had made. She'd only managed to get through to a few of the families of the missing teens. So many of them, she'd discovered, came from broken homes – or even no home at all, in the case of one girl who'd been reported by the shelter she frequented. And of the families she'd reached, only the Reyeses had been willing to come to the station today. The others . . . Roxanne had a painful idea of what had happened there. Months of fear, of being ignored by the police and media, of _not knowing_ . . . it had hurt too much to go on caring, so they hadn't.

But _she _still cared. This, she remembered, was why she'd wanted to be a reporter: to find answers, to empower people with the truth, and, in some small way, to change the world.

To be the good that rose up against evil.

The three of them reached the studio. In the hall outside, Roxanne spied a small group of her coworkers, loitering around and chatting. Their eyes passed over her, their conversation changed, and Roxanne realized with a sinking feeling that she was about to deal with _whisperers. _

Roxanne had been dealing with _whisperers_ for most of her life. She'd had her first serious encounter with them when she was fourteen, just starting high school, and they had whispered about her mother's sanity. When she'd come to work at KMCP, and started her side job as a damsel-in-feigned-distress, the _whisperers _had been there too. They almost never spoke to her directly – only a _very _confident gossip would risk offending the station's star reporter – but she heard them just the same. They whispered about her supposed romance with Metro Man, and what might be going on during her kidnappings. And then, after everything changed, they'd whispered about her involvement with Hal pre- and post-superpowers, and her new relationship with the reformed Megamind.

Not much about _her _personally, now that she thought about it.

She'd learned not to let it bother her. Not so badly that hearing it would ruin her day, at least. One of the first lessons of life and journalism was that you couldn't please everyone – people would always talk about _something. _The people whose opinions mattered to her (including, for practical reasons, her boss) approved of the choices she'd made, and that was enough.

". . . behind it himself, for all we know . . ."

". . . so smart and not finding anything . . ."

". . . Metro Man would've . . ."

Roxanne stopped in her tracks. Whispers about herself were one thing, but _this _she couldn't stand. She whirled on the crowd and got ready to give them an earful.

Except Juan Reyes beat her to it. "How dare you?" he shouted at the crowd. "How dare you say that? Megamind," he pronounced 'mega' as 'mey-gah' "saved my daughter's life! Now he's trying to save her again! What are _you _doing about it?"

"Mi corazon," his wife said softly. She took his arm, and he let her pull him back.

Roxanne swallowed. ". . . Thank you," she told Mr. Reyes. "He'd really appreciate it, you standing up for him."

He only nodded, and Roxanne was sure she didn't imagine the glint of tears in his eyes.

She opened the door to the studio. "Let's get this started."

#-#-#-#-#

In his early years as a superhero, Wayne Scott had enjoyed fighting. Not just because it won him glory in the eyes of the city (though that had been nice too, before it grew stale), but because when he fought a monster or a doomsday machine, he didn't have to worry about _control. _

His first lesson in control had come when he was three, and his parents were talking about enrolling him in school. To get him used to other children, they'd set him up on playdates with the son of the family doctor, the only child in the Scotts' circle of friends who was close to Wayne's age. Those playdates had stopped after the fourth time, when they'd squabbled over a toy and, trying to wrench it away, Wayne had broken the other boy's arm.

Fortunately, the doctor hadn't pressed charges. As Wayne recalled, he'd been much angrier at his own son for upsetting his richest clients. But Lord and Lady Scott had been very firm – he _must _learn to control his gifts, and only use them for good.

They hadn't told him what "good" actually meant, though. He'd had to figure that out on his own.

When he finally did go to school, he'd seldom played _with _other children. It was easier just to impress them with his powers, than to have to control himself every second for fear of hurting someone. When that weird kid from the prison, Johnny, had arrived, it had been a relief – nobody cared if _he _got hurt. And he'd finally had the chance to use his gifts for good, because being good meant punishing the bad guy.

God, had he actually _believed _that?

It hadn't gotten easier for him to interact with normal people, instead of just performing in front of them. Dancing was the worst. When he was eleven, Lady Scott had signed him up for ballroom dancing lessons, thinking that, with how graceful and light on his feet he was, he'd be a natural. Instead, he'd thrown his partner up into the light fixture.

Music _distracted _him. It made him want to give in to it and _move_, and when he danced with a human partner, he could never do that. The last time he'd tried had been four years ago, when he waltzed with Roxanne at a charity ball. As much as he liked her company, it hadn't been _fun_, and he'd almost been relieved when Megamind crashed the party before dinner was even served.

Yet he had come here to dance tonight. And, to his surprise, he was enjoying it. A lot. Months of not using his powers had made it easier not to use them now. And watching Danielle give herself in to the music was _fascinating, _just like it had been when they played basketball. Not guiding his partner, but moving side-by-side, being _in action _together . . . When they'd finally retreated to a booth, he'd ordered a lot of ice water.

It was probably for the best, since alcohol had no more effect on him than caffeine. Meanwhile, on the other side of the table, Danielle was working on her second screwdriver. She wasn't drunk – yet – but she was buzzed, with her mood high and her inhibitions nicely lowered. If he was going to get her to talk, now was the time.

"You're not still on about that?" she groaned when he brought it up.

"Hey, I held up my end of the deal." He gave her a warm smile. "Dee, it's okay. Nothing you say is gonna make me think less of you. It's not like you were firedin disgrace." Wayne paused. "Is it?"

She glared at him over her drink. "_No. _I quit with a clean record."

_That makes two of us. _"Then what was it?"

She took a swig of screwdriver. "God, I'm going over it in my head now and it sounds so _stupid._"

"C'mon, I promise not to laugh."

"Good, 'cause it's not funny." She straightened up, ready to tell a story. "Ever since I was a little kid, I dreamed about being a cop. I wanted to protect and serve, be the thin blue line, take a bite outta crime, the whole schpiel." She took another swig. "And I _loved_ it. And I was g_ood. _I even thought of going out for detective."

Wayne imagined her in a tight blue uniform, fighting for truth and justice, and found it pleasing. "So why didn't you? Did something happen?"

"Somethin' happened, all right." Danielle's mouth twisted in bitter memory. "_He _happened."

"He being . . . ?"

"_Metro Man._"

The way she said the name, like it was _Rasputin _or someone even worse, hit Wayne with a cold shock more powerful than an ocean of ice water_. _

"I'm sorry," she added, as she saw his horrified look. "I know you were a fan, and I shouldn' speak ill of the dead. But he _ruined _us. He turned the police in this city into a _joke_. Every time some lil' thing went wrong, there _he_ was," she swept one hand down, miming a flying superhero landing on the scene, "showing off. Y'know what happens when someone's there to do everything for you? You forget how to do anything for yourself. When there's a golden god to make everything right, what can a mere mortal ever hope to do?"

Through his horrified daze, Wayne could tell she'd been storing up this rant for a long time, and there was probably no stopping it. All he could think of to say was, "Um . . . Megamind's taken over now."

"Oh, don' get me started on _him,_" Danielle snarled. "He's half the reason things got so bad. They _fed _on each other. Two first-class attention whores, showin' off and tryin' to one-up the other, remindin' the rest of us that we'll never be as strong or as smart or as _special _as them. An' the worst part is, it didn't have to get that far."

"What do you mean?"

"There's plenty of times we coulda stopped Megamind on our own. I don' care how many robot monsters he's got – I've seen the guy. He's small. He's not super-strong or fast. That big blue head of his makes an easy target." She seemed to be curling in on herself, her whole body tightening with anger. "I was _there_, Wayne. It was the night after Metro Man died. I was there with the rest of the force on the steps of City Hall when he came dancing up." She gripped her drink until her knuckles paled. "There were _dozens _of us, a hundred armed cops against one little blue guy. All it would've taken was _one shot_, and it would've been over. But nobody even tried. Y'hear me? _Nobody. Even. Tried!_" With each word, she slammed her glass down, slopping juice and vodka onto the table.

"Okay, I think you've had enough." Wayne, gently but firmly, tried to take the glass away before she broke it.

Realizing what she'd done, and that the people around them were staring at her, Danielle let him and slumped forward, burying her face in her arms in despair. "And I was as bad as the rest of them. When he said to drop our guns, I dropped mine too. I resigned the next morning. And now he's got a museum and a big-ass statue, and the city turning to him for everything, and we're right back where we started. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss."

"But –" _But_ _he's_ _**not**__ the_ _same_, Wayne wanted to say. But all he said was, "So you went to work at the community center."

She nodded. "Aunt Alicia got me the job. Hooray for nepotism, I guess. And I thought I could make a difference. I wanted to show people, hey, you don't need special powers to accop- . . . accomb- . . . to get stuff done. We've all got gifts. But then _he _shows up and takes over that too!"

"But he's _doing _it, isn't he?" Wayne finally snapped. "He's trying to _change _things! And _he_ never quit just because he had one moment of weakness!"

Even as he said it, he knew he'd gone too far. Danielle's head snapped up, and her eyes were like black ice. "The deal's over, Wayne. I'm going home."

He followed her as she stormed out. "Danielle! Dee, come on, I didn't mean –"

She just walked faster.

It was so, so tempting to use superspeed. But he had promised himself he'd never use that power again, not if what he had come to suspect about his physiology was true. So he too walked faster, and was barely catching up when he saw her grabbed.

A looming figure in a hooded jacket stepped out of the alley in front of Danielle, one hand clamped around her arm. The streetlight glinted orange on the knife in his other hand. "Okay, pretty sister, now let's just –"

The would-be criminal saw the huge man approaching behind his intended victim. He faltered, just for a moment, but that was all Danielle needed. Quick as a cat, she shoved her arm upwards, throwing him off-balance, then lunged forward and drove her knee into his gut. As he doubled over, winded, he slashed at her, but she struck his wrist and knocked the knife away. Without thinking, Wayne caught it, and crushed it into a pretzel with one fist.

Once again, he told himself he'd step in if things got bad enough. But this time, it didn't feel like a lie. And, as he watched Danielle unleash years of bottled-up anger, shame, and frustration on the unlucky criminal, his thoughts took a very different turn.

It was like the basketball game, and the dancing, but _stronger_. It was inappropriate as hell, and when he thought about it later, he'd be disturbed at the idea of being turned on by violence. But something primal had been triggered, and for the moment, Wayne watched in open-mouthed lust as his date beat her opponent to a pulp.

When the man finally slumped against the wall, Danielle stopped, and Wayne realized he was still holding the mangled knife. Oh damn, after everything she'd said at the bar . . . this was _not _the time for her to find out! He managed to pitch the knife down a storm drain before she noticed.

Her hair had come loose, and flew about her like a stormcloud. Her face was flushed copper, her chest was heaving as she panted, and she looked . . . well, she looked damn pleased with herself. _Triumphant, _was the word he thought of.

A thousand corny lines spun through Wayne's head. "You're beautiful when you kick butt" made it as far as the tip of his tongue. But in the end, he said nothing at all as he picked her up in one swoop. And Danielle, high on adrenaline and victory, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with all her might.

#-#-#-#-#

Megamind suggested a table out on the balcony, but Roxanne talked him out of it. "It's windy, and we'll get mobbed by pigeons."

Fortunately, the Starlight Room's picture windows and skylights gave a view that was just as spectacular, without the danger of avian assailants. The restaurant's name was deceptive, since light pollution drowned out most of the real stars, but far below them, the lights of the city resembled a golden sea of stars, with their own shining beauty.

The dress Roxanne had chosen was wine-red, and longer than she usually favored, with cap sleeves and a plunging V-neck. She'd joked when they were getting ready that it made her look like some evil witch-queen (of course, once she'd said that, he'd _insisted _she wear it).

Across from her, Megamind adjusted the collar of his simple black suit. It had taken him a long time to get used to wearing 'normal' clothes. His leather-and-spandex costumes were part of the identity he'd made for himself, and even now, he wore them most of the time in case he was suddenly called away on a mission. With his unusual body proportions, it was hard to find anything off the rack that fit – and besides, Minion got sensitive when his tailoring skills weren't appreciated.

Really, it made no difference. He was an alien, and a celebrity – he was going to draw attention no matter what he wore.

A few times over the past year, Megamind had thought about creating a personalized human disguise for himself. He'd played with a few designs, but never uploaded any of them. There was too much of a slippery slope – if he disguised himself when they were in public together, Roxanne would have to be disguised as well, or the gossip blogs would eat her alive for going out with another man. Maybe someday, when _disguise_ was no longer such a loaded subject, he'd bring it up again, but for now, he'd endure it for her sake.

Service was slow tonight, but neither of them minded. It had been far too long since they'd last sat down and _talked_ like this. During the last few months, between fighting the Doom Syndicate and putting Find Your Way into action, he'd been so busy – they hadn't had nearly enough time together (and when they did have time, they'd wanted to use it for other things than talking).

As the evening went on, Megamind found himself thinking about the first time they'd made love. It had been several weeks after Tighten (that was _not _the name he'd trademarked, but after the stupid boy had burned it into the landscape, the misspelling stuck) was defeated, when he and Roxanne were still trying to "take it slow". One evening, he'd brought her home from another discreet date, and their goodnight kiss had turned into something more. The walls that had held for ten years had come tumbling down as they kissed and licked and touched – but they hadn't _talked. _

In retrospect, he knew they'd been afraid words would bring them to their senses and spoil everything. At the time, though, it had meant he hadn't told her how _nervous _he was, or how crazy she was making him with her touch. So, when they'd finally tried to _do_ it, he'd . . . finished too soon. God, that had been one of the most embarrassing experiences of his life (and with his track record, that was saying something).

But Roxanne had forgiven him, just as she'd forgiven so much else. She'd told him it was okay, that they should have gone slower, even that it was a little flattering she could make him lose control like that. If he hadn't already been in love with her, he would have fallen that night. And then they _had _talked, and they'd tried again, and from then on it had been amazing . . .

Roxanne waved a hand in front of his face. "Hello?"

Megamind straightened up, blushing furiously. "What?"

"You've been staring into space for a while, that's all."

"I was just thinking about . . . us." He gave her a soft smile. "Can you really believe we've lasted so long?"

"I know." She returned the smile. "It surprises me too sometimes. We _are _strange." She leaned in closer. "But we're also happy. And I think we're worth it."

"I agree." He looked thoughtful. "Did I ever tell you, that you're one of the reasons I wanted to create Find Your Way?"

"I _was_ kind of surprised when you said you wanted to do a youth program," she admitted. "It's a wonderful idea, and I'm proud of you for doing it, but I did wonder. Usually I get the sense you don't like children."

"I don't like them when they _swarm," _Megamind replied._ "_But some of them aren't so bad." He gazed out at the city below. "And my own feelings aren't the issue. The next generation needs help, and not just in the East Side."

"What do you mean?"

"I may be incredibly brilliant and capable, Roxanne, but I'm still only one person. And I won't be around forever." A thought passed between them, that they didn't _know _how long his lifespan might be, but they did know it wasn't 'forever'. "For all our sakes, Metrocity needs to _change._"

"I've been thinking that too," Roxanne said at last. "You _are _brilliant. And you're great at fighting crime, but . . . I feel like there's so much _more _you could be doing."

He reached over and stroked her hand. "Like spending time with you."

Roxanne smiled. "I was going to say developing new science and technology, but I think I like that idea even better."

She was so beautiful, lit by the glow of the candles and the glow of the city outside. The love and happiness shining from her face was like a light all its own. There would never be a more perfect moment than now.

His fingertips brushed over the velvet box just as the communicator went off.

It took all Megamind's willpower not to let out a storm of un-heroic curses. Teeth gritted, he listened to the alarm codes sent by a patrol bot: _Fire. Danger. Daddy needed on the scene._ "I'm so sorry . . ."

Roxanne sighed, rubbing her forehead. "It's okay." Her tone told him it wasn't, but also that she knew there was nothing they could do about it. "You go take care of things. I can get a cab home."

"It's just a fire," Megamind assured her as he headed out. "I'll be back soon!"

As he donned the emergency backup cape and outfit he kept in the car, he fumed silently. For evil heaven's sake, was the fire department as helpless as the police department? He could see he'd have to do something about them too.

Following the bot's signal took him along dark, winding streets, deep into the heart of the East Side. _There must be a curse on this place! _

As he drew nearer, he no longer needed the signal to guide him. Fire trucks blocked the road in front of a shabby brick apartment building, its upper corner ablaze. In the windy night, the flames were spreading rapidly – so they'd have to be faster.

Since it was Saturday, many of the building's occupants were out on the town, but those who were still home tended to go to bed early. Fortunately, the arriving brainbot patrol had woken an elderly man on the second floor, and he'd pulled the fire alarm while the bots had worked to contain the blaze until help arrived. Megamind later learned just how lucky they'd been – if the building's ancient, sub-standard gas lines had caught, the whole place might have gone up in a fireball.

Brainbots and rescue crews worked side by side, hauling out people trapped by the flames or overcome by smoke. At some point, someone snapped a photo of Megamind himself carrying a fat, yowling housecat, draped over his shoulders like a living fur stole. The photo circled through e-mails for some time afterward.

The blaze was tamed, then extinguished. Finally, when it looked like everything might be over (and when he'd finally detached the cat), an exhausted Megamind sat down on the curb, only for the fire lieutenant to approach him.

"We've got two confirmed dead in the apartment where the fire started," the man explained. "They were in the bedroom. Probably never woke up before the smoke got 'em."

The blue hero nodded, frowning. "Can you identify them?" It was an idle question – this was the part of the job where the ordinary professionals took over.

"Neighbors already did," the lieutenant replied. "The names were . . ." he checked, ". . . Juan and Maria Reyes."

An icy weight dropped into the alien's stomach.

"They were on the news, weren't they?" The lieutenant saw his look. "You think this means anything?"

_It means I was very, very wrong about our bad guy. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: Life Is What Happens (4/6)

**Author**: Lady Stormcrow

**Rating**: PG-13

**Word** Count: 10,000-ish

**Summary**: In this chapter, Roxanne gets put through the emotional wringer, Minion has a scary encounter, Wayne makes a decision, and our heroes finally put the pieces together.

**Warnings**: Yet more sexytimes references, discussion of arson and murder, and angst all around.

(Oh, and comments are always very welcome!)

**Chapter 4**

_Reggie Kovacs reached for the bucket._

_ The guards had let him start keeping it by his bed some weeks ago, after they finally realized he wasn't going to stop getting sick at night. It was the drugs that did it – those big red-and-black pills that they brought on his dinner tray. Since none of the others had to take drugs, he'd complained the first time, and the guards had put him in the Tank. After that, he took the pills obediently. _

_ In some ways, this place wasn't so different from the group home he'd grown up in. There were rules, and you got punished if you broke them. _

_He'd broken the rules when he turned the lights back on at night. _

_And that other time, when a guard who tried to shock James had found the Taser backfiring. _

_They'd known it was him right away, and threatened to do much worse than put him in the Tank. But he'd claimed he couldn't help it, so they'd started him on the pills._

_ Still, at least in this place he had friends. The other boys at the group home had tolerated him, since he was the only one who could make their antique PlayStation work. But they'd left him out of other games. And some, like Mark and Darryl, had made fun of the space adventure stories he wrote, so that he had to hide them under his mattress. _

_ Violet had found out about his stories – Violet found out about everything. But instead of making fun, she'd wanted to read them. And she'd _liked t_hem. So he'd shared them with James and Laurie as well, and sometimes, when the guards let them, they would all sit together in the common room and listen as he read out loud, doing voices for all the characters and taking requests for the next story. Even when they were scared, even when the tests hurt, during those story times they were together against the world. _

_ But he couldn't _**think **_when he was on the pills. The guards still let him have paper and pencils, but there were no more stories now. _

_ The nausea passed, but the dull, _blocked _feeling in his head was still there. So Reggie lay down again, and waited for the lights to come on. _

#-#-#-#-#

Roxanne waited as long as she could.

The Starlight Room's wait staff took pity on her after her date left to go defend the city. They sped up service, refilled her drink without being asked, and even offered her a complimentary dessert. The tired, cynical part of her kept saying they were just trying to ingratiate themselves to a local celebrity . . . but she accepted a dish of tiramisu anyway.

By the time she finished it, she knew Megamind wasn't coming back. It was time to retreat.

The taxi dropped her off near the Lair's secret entrance. As she passed through the holographic wall, Shockwave flew over to greet her. His oversized optic stretched out and scanned her, apparently puzzled that she was alone.

"I guess Daddy's not back yet." She gave the bot's dome an affectionate rub with her knuckles, watching the lines of electricity twist and flicker at her touch. "Where's Minion?"

Minion turned out to be where he'd spent most of that week: hunched over in front of the computer. Over his furry shoulder, Roxanne spied the unmistakable rapidly-falling blocks of a Tetris game. She dragged her shoe loudly across the floor, and smirked as he hurried to minimize the game. "I was, uh, just waiting for a search to finish! It should be – oh. Um, good evening, Miss Ritchi." The fish's expression changed from embarrassment to sympathy as he saw she was alone. ". . . Oh no. He got called away, didn't he? What was it?"

"Fire, he said. I take it he hasn't called you either?"

"Not yet." Minion swiveled the chair around. "But hey, that might be a good thing! If he doesn't need backup, maybe he'll be home soon."

"I hope so." She peered at the monitor. "You're still going over the hoverbike records?"

Minion bobbed in his dome, his equivalent of a nod. "I knew they'd be popular, but not like this. The manufacturer's shipped more than _three thousand _of them. And they've still got orders coming in!"

Roxanne glanced at some of the names and addresses. "Can you narrow it down by location? A lot of these orders are international."

The fish bobbed again. "Right now it's only checking buyers who live in Michigan. But that's still almost a hundred names."

She frowned. "I wouldn't have thought it was so many. I don't think I've seen more than two or three of them in flight since they came out."

"Well . . ." Minion hesitated. "Between you and me, Miss Ritchi, I think a lot of the buyers don't actually _use _them. Having your own flying machine sounds like a great idea, but once you're up in the air, trying to handle it . . ."

"Good point." Roxanne had been on a number of hoverbike rides since the day Minion rescued her from the top of Metro Tower. It was exciting, but it could also be scary, even when the bike wasn't out of control and racing from a thousand tons of falling skyscraper. "But the company offers lessons, doesn't it?"

"_Requires_ them," Minion replied. "The air traffic people insisted. Anyone can buy a bike, but they don't get a license to _fly _it without completing the lessons. The kidnapper might be flying unlicensed, though."

Roxanne shook her head. "If Megamind's right, this guy's skilled enough to take off and land in a busy neighborhood without being noticed, all while carting an unconscious teenager on his bike. He's had the lessons."

"That's what I'm hoping." He tapped one metal finger against the open search window, where a progress bar slogged along. "The system's slow tonight, but when it's done, we'll have records on all the Michigan buyers. If one of them's got a suspicious history, we'll know."

She rubbed one of her eyes tiredly, no doubt smudging her makeup. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Not right now." Minion gave her a gentle smile. "You go get some rest, Miss Ritchi. I'll let you know if anything comes up."

That wasn't what Roxanne had hoped to hear. But, if there really was nothing she could do . . .

She'd hidden a new electric-blue nightie in the bedroom closet, hoping to surprise Megamind with it if their date went well. But her mood was spoiled, and the glittery, translucent garment wasn't designed for actually _sleeping _in, so she went for a tank top and flannel pajama bottoms instead. This, she thought bitterly as she slid under the covers, was her life now. Left behind, out of the loop, unable to do anything about it. Always knowing that, at any second, her beloved could be called away to danger – often for things people should be able to handle themselves.

Megamind was right. For them to have any hope of a peaceful future, the city needed to change.

Still, she reminded herself, they'd had plenty of other dates that hadn't been interrupted. And there were lots of jobs besides superhero-ing that had long, unpredictable hours, but those who worked them managed to have personal lives – as long as their partners were understanding. She could deal with it.

_Hey, at least _I'm _not the one getting hauled away now. _

Roxanne wasn't sure when she fell asleep, but it was still dark outside when she woke to the sound of boots on carpet. The bedroom door opened slowly, and her heart rose as she saw Megamind's unmistakable form silhouetted against the light. As he approached, she rolled over sleepily, ready to give him a "welcome back" smile . . . but stopped. The terrible, _haunted _looked in his eyes snapped her instantly awake. "What is it?"

"He killed them."

She scooted up in bed. "Who?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Reyes." Megamind sat down next to her. "The fire was at their apartment. Roxanne, _he killed them._"

"Oh god . . ." His costume was filthy, and he stank of smoke and sweat, but she hugged him close anyway. "Are you sure?"

"Not officially," he whispered. "I'll have to wait for the medical examiner's report before I announce it. But I _know, _Roxanne."

She took a deep breath. "You keep saying 'he'. If there was a fire –"

He shook his head. "I checked. The women's prison still has Hot Flash in custody. The guards even woke her up so I could speak to her." He gave a weak chuckle. "She was . . . _vocally _displeased about that."

In spite of everything, Roxanne smiled a little as she imagined the flame-haired villainess's cranky tirade.

"I'm going back to investigate as soon as it's light enough." He didn't add, _I owe them that much, _but Roxanne could feel him thinking it.

Fearing what the answer might be, she asked, "Do you think it was because of the interview? Because they spoke out?"

". . . Roxanne, this isn't your fault," Megamind finally replied. But she noticed he didn't say 'no'. "I'm the one who was wrong about our bad guy. I thought we were dealing with a quiet, professional type who wanted to avoid drawing any kind of attention." He hugged her so tightly that it hurt. "But this person is _dangerous, _Roxanne. That fire could have killed everyone in the building, and he set it anyway, to cover up the murders of two people who were no threat to him."

"He's crazy," she said. It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact.

"Exactly. Crazy enough that I don't trust myself to predict what he'll do next." He rested his cheek on her shoulder, smearing soot on the strap of her tank top. "Not when I've been so badly wrong already."

She dusted cat hair off the back of his collar. "We'll have to stay on guard, then."

#-#-#-#-#

They had gone back to Danielle's apartment after the fight outside the bar. She'd been all over him on the way – kissing him, twining her fingers through his hair, nuzzling against him like an affectionate cat. When she invited him to stay for the night, it had been very clear what she meant.

If things had been different, Wayne would have gone for it. He'd _wanted _to, badly; it had been years since the last time he'd had sex. True, he'd had legions of fans, women and men alike, who'd practically thrown themselves at him. But none of them had been interesting enough for Metro Man to risk tarnishing his heroic reputation (or worse, losing c_ontrol _in the heat of passion). So he'd tried to put it out of his mind. When people asked, he told them his true love was Metro City. The supposed relationship with Roxanne Ritchi had helped too – the would-be groupies were still there, but all except the craziest kept their distance.

So many people had loved him . . . but the woman in his arms tonight had _**hated **_him. In the end, he'd said something about her being drunk and him being an old-fashioned kind of guy. She'd been disappointed, but she seemed to accept it.

He did stay for the night, though. By then it had been too late to catch a bus all the way back to his hideout. He'd borrowed a blanket and curled up on Danielle's lumpy plaid couch, and for several hours he tossed and turned, troubled in mind and body.

It was easy for Wayne to forget, especially nowadays, that he was just as alien as his lifelong foe. In fact, if it weren't for Megamind, he wouldn't have known at all. When Wayne was a small child, his mother had told him that he'd flown down from Heaven in a golden cradle, and that that was why he'd been blessed with such gifts. He'd loved how special the story made him feel . . . except that she'd kept on telling it, even when he was old enough to know where babies _really _came from.

Finally, the Scotts had admitted he was adopted. But they refused to tell him anything about his birth family, no matter how many times he asked. It got to the point that Lady Scott would fake tears if he even brought it up, sobbing that didn't he love her, wasn't she a good enough mother? And Lord Scott, sick of all the fuss, had flat-out ordered his son not to talk about it.

Then, when Wayne was fourteen, Johnny Blue had come back into his life, as an angry teenaged criminal hating him for things Wayne hadn't thought about in years. The papers had captured their first real battle, in the heart of a shopping mall. Although they hadn't yet taken the names, Wayne now realized that was the day they'd become Metro Man and Megamind, now and forever.

He'd won, of course. And he'd hauled Johnny back to prison, just as he'd used to drop him in time-out when they were at school. It could have ended there . . . but the next day, Wayne had gone back to talk to him. If they were going to keep fighting like this, he wanted to know _why _the other boy hated him so much.

From the other side of a visitation window, Johnny had told him an impossible story about alien civilizations, black holes, and a place called the Glaupunk Quadrant. Wayne had wanted so desperately not to believe it. If there were other people out there with powers just like his, it meant he wasn't _special_. And there was a whole world of difference between "more than human" and "not human".

He'd tried to convince himself Johnny was lying. After all, he was a bad guy, and that was what bad guys _did. _But the other boy sure _looked _like an alien – why couldn't there be others? And, after some searching, Wayne had found the "golden cradle" in his family's vault. And that had settled it.

He wasn't human.

But he _was_ male, and he found humans attractive. Now that he thought about it, he'd always been turned on by fierce, athletic girls. His high school girlfriend, the one he'd (carefully) lost his virginity to, had been captain of the hockey team. He wondered now if it was an instinctual thing – if Danielle excited him so much because, in some way, she resembled a female of his species.

When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed of them flying together.

It was mid-morning when the sunlight streaming in woke him. His hideout had no windows, and it had been months since the last time he'd woken up to the sun. As he pulled on his jeans, he noticed a picture had fallen off the side table – he'd probably knocked it over in his sleep. Curious, Wayne picked it up.

The photo showed a tall black man, lean and handsome in his Air Force uniform, standing on a tropical beach. By his side was a petite bronze-skinned woman with long dark hair, her eyes almond-shaped like Danielle's. The couple looked young, and very much in love.

Wayne fought down a lump in his throat as he thought of his own parents. Lord and Lady Scott hadn't been perfect, but they were the only family he remembered. They hadn't been young when they adopted him, and they'd died within a year of each other – she from cancer, he from a heart attack. Another reminder of how fragile humans could be.

After that, he'd been . . . alone. He had no other relatives, and no real friends except Roxanne and, in a sad and twisted way, Megamind. He'd been what the city wanted him to be, and nothing else. He'd faked his own death two years later.

What would Mother and Father have thought, he wondered, if their golden heir brought home a girl from the East Side? A girl who was half black and half Filipina? But then again, they'd adopted a son who wasn't even from Earth.

What they _would _object to was what she'd said last night. Oh god, he'd been so _hopeful _when he learned she was an ex-cop! He'd never heard such venom from anyone he hadn't sent to jail. And what if Danielle wasn't the only one? Wayne had believed he'd quit while he was ahead, leaving a record that would forever remain spotless. But now, to find out that there had been ordinary people, _good _people, who hated him even at the height of his career . . . it was almost as bad as learning he wasn't human.

And he couldn't deal with it on an empty stomach. A search of the tiny kitchen turned up little except sandwich makings and leftover takeout. But he did find a skillet, so with an egg and some sliced ham, Wayne managed to fry a decent breakfast sandwich. _Learning to be normal, one mundane task at a time. _

He was pouring orange juice when Danielle emerged from the bedroom. The oversized T-shirt she'd slept in only reached to mid-thigh, and he took an admiring look at her legs as she walked over. "Morning, warrior princess."

That got a laugh out of her. "I can't believe I did that! Still got it, I guess."

"Hold on, I'll make another sandwich. Juice?" He offered her the glass he'd just poured.

"Ugh, no! Evil!" She crossed her fingers to ward off the offending beverage. "I'm still tasting those screwdrivers." She sat down at the card table, looking uneasy. ". . . Wayne, listen. I . . . I know I kinda lost it last night. I don't want you to think –"

He slid a sandwich in front of her. "Dee, don't worry about it. You were drunk. It's no big deal." He added hopefully, "I bet you didn't even mean most of it."

"Wayne, I meant what I said." She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Look, there _were _times when Metro Man was a help. But he went way too far! And the worst thing was the way everybody _worshipped _him. I mean, they even put him on the county seal!"

"Yeah, that wasa bit much."

"Ya think?" Danielle sighed. "I guess he's not the only one I'm mad at. The rest of us are guilty too. We let ourselves get weak when he was around." She poked her sandwich. ". . . But you were right about Megamind."

"How do you mean?"

"He _is _different from Metro Man. And he _is_ helping us down at the center. I just . . ." She swallowed. "I just wish we didn't _need _his help." She pushed her sandwich away. ". . . Do you hate me yet?"

The question caught Wayne off-guard. "Why would I hate you?"

"Because I'm a horrible, ungrateful person." Her hair was a velvety cloud, hiding her face as she looked away.

Wayne suddenly wondered how many other people she'd shared her feelings about Metro Man with. _Most _of the city, he knew, had loved him. He doubted they'd take kindly to someone who spoke ill of their hero – especially when, in their eyes, she should have been grateful he was making her job easier.

An outsider, hating him for things he'd never even thought about . . .

"Aw, Dee, you're not a horrible person." He reached over and gently brushed her hair back. "You're an _angry _person, sure. It sounds like you've been angry for a long time. But it's in the past now. You need to let it go."

She looked up, smiling. "You sound like one of those cheesy self-help books."

"Well, I've read a few in my time."

He watched as Danielle finally started to eat her sandwich. Eventually, he knew, he'd probably have to tell her. But for now, all seemed well. There was no need to rush things –

"So, can we go to your place next time?"

Wayne froze. "Uh . . . you wouldn't like my place, believe me. A real hole in the ground. Yours is a lot nicer."

Danielle glanced around at her small, worn-down apartment with its cheap, worn-down furniture, and raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?" She scooted closer. "Look, Wayne, I know there's something you're not telling me. I get that you're not allowed to talk about some of your past. But you can _trust_ me. I already told you _my _darkest secret."

"_That _was your darkest secret?" Wayne had spent a lifetime fighting the dregs of society. As dark secrets went, he'd seen much worse, even if this one hurt himmore personally.

"Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating. But you get my point."

". . . Yeah, I do," he sighed at last. "And . . . there is something."

He'd meant to come clean then and there. He really had. They were in a private place, she was feeling sympathetic, and he had _said _he was going to tell her a secret. But she was looking at him with the same warm, hopeful smile he'd seen the night they met. To see that beautiful smile turn into anger and hatred . . . he just couldn't.

But he had to say _something_. She'd mentioned dark secrets, and there was one he'd been thinking about weeks before he met her, ever since that evening he'd gone to the Lair. If he worded it carefully . . .

"But it's not from my service days," he said, and she looked disappointed. "Actually, it's from my school days."

She blinked. "That's all? What, were you some kinda delinquent?"

"No, far from it! I was the most popular kid in school. The teacher liked me, and I had a lot of friends. Nobody _close, _I guess, but a lot of them. But . . ." it took Wayne a moment to finally admit it, ". . . there was this one kid in our class. Poor guy, he had the deck stacked against him from the start. Nerdy, kind of weird-looking, bad home life – you know the type."

She nodded. "I know the type."

"And like I said, I was Mister Popular. Danielle, it would have been so _easy _for me to try and make friends. But when you're a kid . . . well, you don't know any better. You don't . . . think about things." He tried to think of the nicest way to phrase it. A way that would let him still sound like a good guy . . .

Danielle, however, said the actual words. "You bullied him."

Wayne flinched. "We all did! . . . but, yeah, I was the worst. And it messed him up, Dee. First he got expelled from school. Then, when he grew up, he was in and out of jail all the time . . ." He covered his eyes miserably as he finally let the memories come back. "But I never _hated _him, I swear! I even got to like him after a while. It turned out we had a lot in common. But by then it was too late."

"You mean he – ?"

"No, he's still around." Wayne tried to smile. "And he's made a pretty good start at turning his life around. I just meant it was too late to be friends."

Since Danielle had a mouthful of sandwich, she didn't reply right away. After a long, quiet moment, she swallowed, and asked, ". . . Did you ever tell _him_ any of this?"

"No." He scratched his beard nervously. "I think this is the first time I've ever really talked about it at all."

"Maybe it would help if you did." She shrugged. "I mean, people grow up. People change. Maybe he's forgiven you."

"I don't think so," he replied, leaving a last bite of sandwich on the plate. "I did try to talk to him recently, but he didn't seem too thrilled to see me."

"Like I said, maybe it would help if you told him what you told me." She got up and started rinsing dishes as she talked. "If you really are sorry –"

"Yeah, I am."

She smiled. "Then I say go for it. Even if it doesn't work out, at least you can say you tried. And you'll feel better, trust me."

"Now you're the one who sounds like a self-help book," he teased.

Danielle giggled, leaning back against the sink. "Maybe that's not such a bad thing. By the way, it's your turn to pick what we do next time."

He gently picked her up for a kiss. He had to, since the top of her head only reached partway up his chest. "Let me think it over. I'll call you soon."

"I'll be waiting," she purred.

Once he'd closed the front door behind him, Wayne took a deep breath. Oh damn, why did she have to be so sweet and understanding and _right? _If she'd been furious when he told her about his past, he could have walked away for good, no matter how attracted he was. But no, she was making him believe things really could work out between them.

Except it was all so much more complicated than what he'd told her. No matter what she'd said, he wasn't ready to face Megamind just yet.

He remembered a term he'd read somewhere once: _objective third party. _There was only one person he knew who fit that role. Granted, she probably wasn't so objective these days, but she was all he had.

#-#-#-#-#

When he'd left the scene last night, Megamind had ordered several brainbots to stay and guard the Reyeses' apartment. Now, as he returned, he could see them flitting in and out of the shattered, blackened windows, the glow of their domes standing out in the dark interior.

There were human officers on duty as well, but Megamind brushed past them as he strode into the building. After everything that had happened, he trusted his own creations more.

The elevator had been in bad shape even before the fire. Now it was blocked off by a variety of warning signs, so, with a scowl, he started trudging up the stairs. With each floor, he could see the damage grow worse. The first and second were mostly unscathed, and some diligent mop work would probably clean up the third. But the fourth was a nightmare of soot and water damage, and the fifth, where the fire had started, was a burned-out ruin littered with fallen beams and blackened chunks of plaster. He could see into some of the apartments through the damaged walls, and wondered vaguely where the inhabitants were staying now.

When they'd carried the bodies out last night, the emergency crew had made a rough path through the debris. Megamind picked his way along it now. Yellow police tape blocked the Reyeses' doorway – he ducked under it, and grimaced as he stepped on the squelchy, filthy remains of the front rug.

Last night, they'd determined that the fire started in the bedroom. One of the firefighters had suggested that somebody dropped a cigarette. Although Megamind had never been a smoker (he'd tried it when he was nine, and after he'd finally stopped throwing up, had sworn _**never again**_), the comment had still brought back memories. Now, as he started to examine the room, he thought back to his childhood, and the tales of Uncle Deon.

Once upon a time, Gideon Moretti had been the finest professional arsonist-for-hire in Metro City. He never would have been caught (or so he said) if one of his clients hadn't panicked and sold him out to cover his own ass. Like many long-term career criminals, he was a pleasant person outside of "working hours", and he'd been one of Megamind's favorite prison uncles. On nights when he'd cared for the little alien, he'd sometimes told him about his old job; it was his idea of a bedtime story.

_"You can tell a lot about a guy from the way he lights up." _The blue man could easily hear Deon's gravelly voice in his mind. _"Your common sicko firebug's easy to spot. He just wants the biggest flame he can get. He's sloppy. He leaves traces all over the place." _

_ "Traces?" _his younger self had asked.

_"Accelerant. Gas, lighter fluid, that kind of thing. Firebugs like the classics, but they use way too much of 'em. Half the time, you can _smell _where a firebug's been." _Megamind remembered giggling at the disgusted face Uncle Deon had made. _"Now, your professional, like me, he's a bit more careful. He knows people are gonna get suspicious, so he makes it look natural. Drops a cigarette, maybe snips some wires. Goes easy on the accelerant. A professional knows he's good when no one knows he's done anything at all." _The inmate had given him a stern look. _"But professionals have _rules, _Blue. You know what the most important rule is?" _When the little boy had faltered, Deon dropped the stern look. _"C'mon, ask me!"_

_ "What's the most important rule?"_

_ "The most important rule is: don't get involved with a body. People get _interested _when there's a body. So make sure you know what you're getting into. Insurance, sure. Putting a rival out of business, that's fine. Just as long as there's no bodies. Let the killers cover up their own mess." _

Megamind supposed it _was _possible that Juan and Maria Reyes had died by accident. But his gut instinct, honed by a lifetime spent on both sides of the law, told him they had been murdered, and almost certainly by the same person who kidnapped their daughter. What he hoped to find now were clues about the nature of the kidnapper-slash-murderer-slash-arsonist.

He pulled some tweezers from a belt pouch, and picked a charred scrap of blanket from the ruins of the bed. Remembering what Uncle Deon had said about being able to smell a firebug, the blue alien took a careful sniff.

No gasoline or lighter fluid – the ex-villain would have recognized those in a heartbeat – but there _was _something there. Most human noses wouldn't have caught it, but under the smoke and charcoal, there was a sharp, stinging, _chemical _smell.

It took Megamind a moment to put a name to the smell: acetone. Used in industrial solvents, cleaning products . . . he tried to think what else . . .

As he knelt down to collect more samples, his knee bumped against something hidden in the ash. He dug out a burned, melted plastic bottle, also smelling of acetone.

Nail polish remover. The cheap brands, the ones Mrs. Reyes had been able to afford, were _loaded _with acetone. A quick search under the bed also turned up a can of hairspray, imploded from the heat. The killer had grabbed any flammable liquid he could find.

Which meant he hadn't brought his own accelerant. Which meant, Megamind realized, he might not have come here planning to start a fire at all.

He'd need to test the samples to be sure, just as he'd need the medical examiner's report to be sure about the Reyeses' deaths. But he _knew. _And, as he exited the bedroom, he realized something else.

He'd spoken to witnesses last night. A few had heard raised voices coming from the apartment, but there had been no sounds of a break-in or a struggle. The fire crew had bashed down the front door, but when he examined it now, the locks were open, and the chain was undamaged. Even Roxanne, who lived in a neighborhood much safer than this one, kept her door locked most of the time. If the killer hadn't broken in . . .

Megamind gasped the words out loud. "They _knew_ him."

He left the apartment and checked the roof-access door at the end of the hall. _It_ had been broken open – from the outside. A picture of last night's events formed in the blue hero's mind.

The bad guy had landed his hoverbike on the roof, so that no one would see him enter the building. Once inside, he'd gone straight to the apartment. Mr. and Mrs. Reyes, recognizing him, had let him in. They'd talked. Something had happened, and he'd killed them – cleanly, from what Megamind could tell. But once they were dead, he'd panicked. He'd dragged them into the bedroom, set the fire, and fled, leaving the door unlocked behind him.

Megamind whistled for the brainbots. "Stay here. You can let people in, but _watch _them." Despite the old saying, criminals rarely returned to the scene of the crime, but if this person was as crazy as he thought, there was always a chance.

The lead 'bot saluted with one tendril. His number, Megamind recalled, was 361; an older brainbot always led the younger ones on patrol. In his head now, the blue hero dubbed him "Gideon".

#-#-#-#-#

Megamind spent the rest of the day in his laboratory. The samples tested positive for acetone, hairspray ingredients, and several other common household substances. The arsonist had splashed everything together in a chemical stew, strongly supporting the theory that he'd panicked after the murders.

After he had the results, the blue genius cloistered himself in the Lair and refused to leave until he heard from the medical examiner. Nothing Minion said could budge his obsessive master. So, when the call hadn't come by Monday, the cyborg fish volunteered to go check on things down at the community center.

The building was worryingly empty as he made his way inside. Minion knew he shouldn't be surprised at the quiet; at this time of day, most of the neighborhood was at work or in school. But he was used to seeing the center full of activity, and he was sure he didn't imagine the tense, _fearful _atmosphere. Sir wasn't going to like this at all.

Minion heard Alicia Sanders before he saw her. The door to her office was open, and she was trying, with questionable success, not to shout at someone.

"– said I'm not doing an interview! . . . What do you think I could know? Nothing _happened _here! . . . Oh, _nice _try! Listen, I got two words for you: _no comment. _I already threw your buddy out yesterday. Anyone else is getting hit with harassment charges! . . . Sure, _now _you're sorry. Too late, mister." She slammed the phone down and groaned.

"Director?" Minion cautiously knocked on the doorframe.

"Minion? Please tell me you've come with some good news." She rubbed her temples, catching strands of hair that had come unraveled from her crown of braids.

"Well, _some _news, anyway." He closed the door behind him. "What was that call about?"

"Tabloid vultures," she replied bitterly. "They started circling yesterday, looking for juicy details about the kidnapping and the deaths. I sent 'em packing, so they're sticking to phone calls now."

Minion was horrified. "You should have told Sir! We could've –"

Alicia held up a hand. "The best thing Megamind can do right now is stick to solving the case. Once he's got some answers, we can spread the truth." She rested her elbows on the desk and looked Minion in the eye. "I've been running this place for fifteen years. I'm glad for your boss's help, but I don't need him for every little thing. Now, what's the news?"

Minion hesitated a moment before answering. He liked Alicia most of the time, but honestly, he'd been a little jealous when his friend worked so closely with her over the winter. And she, for her part, hadn't been pleased when she was told he had no other name and was happy being called "Minion". But, the fish reminded himself, she'd always been civil to him. And Sir was fond of her, and it _was _a good thing for Sir to have other friends. Much as he might wish it, they couldn't do everything on their own.

"Sir thinks the Reyeses knew –"

A knock on the door interrupted him.

"Hold that thought for a minute," Alicia said. She straightened up at her desk. "Come in!"

Kathleen Janssen peered inside, her strawberry-blonde braid hanging through the crack. "Mrs. Sanders? Am I interrupting anything?" she cooed. Not waiting for an answer, she brushed past Minion as if he were part of the furniture. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Alicia sighed. "Go ahead." She exchanged a 'can things get any worse?' look with Minion.

"My poor Jeff's feeling under the weather." The younger woman's lip pooched out at the sorrow of such a thing. "You know how risky it is, working with the sick. I promised I'd take care of things here, but if he gets worse, he might need me . . ." She gave Alicia a soft, pleading look.

The older woman nodded tiredly. "It's fine, Kathleen. You do what you have to – we'll manage. Tell Dr. Tremblay I hope he feels better soon."

"I will!" Kathleen clasped her hands, all happiness and gratitude. "Oh, thank you for being so understanding!"

"Comes with the job." That seemed to remind the director, and she perked up. "Have you met our visitor? Kathleen, this is –"

"Mm-hm, I know who he is." Kathleen's smile stayed on, but she still avoided looking at the alien fish in the huge mechanical ape suit. "I'll give Jeff your regards!" She stepped gracefully out the door.

Minion fluttered his fins uneasily as he watched her leave. He knew his appearance sometimes frightened people, but fear wasn't what he'd read from the young woman at all. And yet she'd been actively ignoring him . . . he could feel the tendrils on his back starting to pulse and glow as suspicion rose. "Director, who was that?"

"Her name's Kathleen Janssen," Alicia replied, raising an eyebrow at the glowing. "She works in health services here. I think you met her brother and fiancé at the concert –"

But Minion was already heading after her. _Kathleen Janssen . . . _he _knew_ that name, he'd heard it recently . . .

"Miss Janssen?" he called after her.

"'Fraid I can't talk now," she chirped brightly.

Minion followed her down the hall. "I just want to –"

"Duty calls!"

"It'll just take a sec–"

"I said _back off, _fishstick," Kathleen hissed suddenly. She whirled around to face him, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Minion's suit made him taller, heavier, and much, much stronger than her, but he cringed back anyway.

It was her glasses that did it. As he stared into those golden-yellow catseyes, the fish found himself flashing back to one of his most terrifying memories.

More than thirty years ago, when Minion was a small pup, his master had gotten sick of being cooped up inside on a nice day. The two alien children had decided to go exploring, and staged a quiet escape through creative use of a toilet seat, a metal shelving unit, several bedsheets, part of a vacuum cleaner, a departing delivery truck, and a very long piece of string. They'd touched down in a vacant lot on the edge of the city, and there, Minion had been attacked by a stray cat.

In his memory, the monster was almost as big as his young Sir. The cat had _toyed _with him, batting his globe around, claws sinking through the permeable surface as it tried to bite the little fish inside.

Sir had saved him by blasting the cat away with the modified vacuum motor. Seeing how traumatized his friend was, the blue child had hurried them back to the prison, and had put off escaping again for so long that the warden decided it was safe to try enrolling him in school. But Minion had never forgotten that day, or the primal terror of being attacked, trapped, and _helpless. _

Kathleen had eyes like that cat's. The eyes of someone who, when charm and cuteness didn't work, would claw and bite to get what she wanted. Predator'seyes. Minion backed away from her, and she was gone before he could recover.

He hadn't heard the name. He'd _read _it. And that other name too . . .

Minion hurried back to the Lair. On the computer, he opened the search records again, scanning for the names Janssen and Tremblay.

What he found puzzled him, and he made a phone call.

What he heard puzzled him even more, and started him on another trail.

What he found _there _led to more phone calls, which pointed him in a new direction.

And what he found _there _made him gasp, and left him searching late into the evening.

The stack of printed files beside him grew higher . . .

#-#-#-#-#

Work had been light today, unusual for a Monday. Roxanne had promised she'd be at the Lair tonight, but "tonight" was still technically a few hours away. Enough time to make some progress on her apartment.

She changed out of her blouse and skirt and put on the oldest, grungiest T-shirt and sweatpants she owned, feeling like Rosie the Riveter as she tied a bandana over her hair. The box of cleaning supplies she'd bought was still on the counter. She knew it would probably make more sense to hire a professional to do this, but . . . well, she needed to know she could still do _something _right.

She'd tried to take to heart what Megamind had said. Juan and Maria Reyes' deaths _weren't _her fault. She'd been trying to helpthem, and their daughter, and the other missing kids. They'd wantedto go on the air. For all she knew, the killer had been planning to come after them anyway.

The reporter knew she shouldn't feel so achingly guilty. But she did, and she hoped some dirty work would ease the ache.

It was amazing, Roxanne thought, that so much sticky grease could have accumulated when she did most of her cooking in the microwave. She worked from the top down, kneeling on the counter to reach, spraying and scrubbing, some of what she scraped off gluing itself to her rubber gloves. She was bending at a particularly tricky angle near the stove when the doorbell rang.

"Just a minute!" Roxanne shouted. Climbing down carefully, she peeled off her gloves, splashed some water on her face, and decided that was as presentable as she felt like being.

But the figure on the other side of the peephole gave her pause. Trenchcoat and fedora, all-too-familiar profile . . . she remembered what Megamind had said three weeks ago, and wondered if he'd go away if she stayed very quiet.

But no, she _did _want to talk to him. And even if she was tired and dirty and in a bad mood right now, she had to seize the chance.

She undid the chain and opened the door. "Wayne, what do you want?"

"Uh, is this a bad time?" He seemed taken aback by her words. "I just hoped we could chat, but if you're busy . . ."

". . . No, it's okay. Come in." She held the door for him. "Do you want a drink? It'll have to be iced tea, I'm afraid. I haven't been shopping."

"I'm fine." He sat down on her red couch, and looked around at the stacks of boxes while she fetched a drink for herself. "So what's going on? It looks like you're moving out."

"I am." She took a seat at the opposite corner of the couch. "I'm moving into the Lair, actually. Or I will be, if I ever finish packing."

Wayne was quiet from a moment as he heard that. She watched several emotions flit across his hairy face, but to her relief, he settled on happiness. "Hey, that's great! I didn't know you guys were so serious."

She shrugged. "We tried to take it slow for a while, but yeah, I'd say we're pretty serious by now."

"I always did think there was a spark between you two." He leaned back. "Too bad, though. I liked this place. It's got an amazing view." He gestured toward one of the loft's enormous windows. The sky was cloudy, and in the late afternoon, the city below looked gray and hazy. "Maybe I should get a place like it."

Roxanne raised an eyebrow. "You mean you're still living in your old hideout?"

"I had to. Renting anywhere decent would've left too much of a paper trail." He brightened. "But it's coming up on two years. I might be safe now."

Roxanne pictured the former hero's pad in her mind: a gilded shrine to the glory of Metro Man. A thought occurred to her. "This doesn't have anything to do with Miss Dymond, does it?"

Wayne started. "How did you know?"

"I saw you with her after the concert," she replied calmly.

". . . Did you know –"

"That she hated Metro Man's guts? Yes." She opened her bottle of iced tea. "Megamind told me. He thought it was hilarious."

"I guess he would." Wayne took his hat off, and ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. "But you know, I think I can live with it. It's all in the past. She doesn't need to know."

Roxanne paused with the bottle halfway to her mouth. "You haven't told her?"

"Why would I? Like I said, it's in the past."

". . . Wayne, 'in the past' isn't the same as 'over and done'." She took a sip of tea to wet her throat. "I know you were having a hard time back then. You'd lost your parents, and the museum wasn't cheering you up like we'd hoped. I can understand that you'd want to take some time off. Or even retire permanently, if that's what was needed. But the way you did it . . . Wayne, you let me believe I'd _led you to your death!_"

She hadn't meant to shout it. But it did feel good to finally get it out, and when he didn't say anything, she went on. "You were my friend. I _grieved _for you. Why . . . why did you let me _hurt _like that?"

All he could say was, "I didn't think I had a choice."

Roxanne rubbed her arm, itching from dust. She wished she'd had the chance to wash up. She couldn't deal with this in her cleaning clothes. But then, the last time she'd dropped in on _him, _he'd been in his bathrobe. Maybe they were even.

"You had a choice the day we came to you for help."

He groaned. "Roxie, _I didn't know. _I heard the reports afterward – they said the city'd never seen that kind of destruction. I had no idea it was that bad." He tried to give her a charming grin. "And hey, everything turned out fine in the end, didn't it?"

"_Barely," _she snapped. "I know it was Megamind's mess to clean up, and he did that. But he and Minion almost died! _I _almost died! Most of downtown was destroyed!" Sighing, she pulled her bandana off. "There's a lot of blame to go around, Wayne. Most of it belongs with Hal, and some goes to Megamind for enabling him. But some of it also belongs with the people who stood back and _did nothing._"

A long, aching silence settled over the apartment. Finally, Wayne whispered, "That's what Danielle said."

"She sounds like a smart girl." Roxanne sipped her tea, feeling a little bad now for yelling at him. At least she hadn't smashed anything over his head this time. "But, you know, there are lots of people who didn't hate Metro Man. I'm sure you can find someone."

"But I don't _want _to!" His volume startled her. "I know it hasn't been that long, but . . . god, Roxie, she's _fun, _and I'm _happy _when I'm with her, and she makes me feel like –"

"Do you love her?"

The ex-hero sighed. "I don't know. I think I _could._"

This was probably a new experience for him, Roxanne realized. Faced with a personal dilemma he couldn't buy, charm, or "super" his way out of. "Then you have to tell her."

"_Why? _Why should I burden her with that?"

Roxanne had to admit, she hadn't thought of it that way. But she couldn't back down. "It's not as if she'd bear the burden alone. She works with Megamind sometimes, and there's . . . haven't you told _anyone _else?"

He shook his head. "I can't, Roxanne. If somebody let things slip, you know they'd try to drag me back into service. And neither of you want that."

She gave him a narrow look. "And just what is _that_ supposed to mean? You really think I'm okay with you letting everyone believe Megamind's a murderer?"

"At least they take him seriously." He met her gaze with confidence this time. "Think about it. The little guy's spent so many years having all his plans fail. But now the public thinks he's capable of taking down _two _invincible enemies. If people find out I'm alive, he'll lose that."

Roxanne gaped at him for a moment, unable to believe what he'd said, and hating to admit he might have a point. _Oh Wayne, that was a __**low **__blow. _And, she realized, he probably had no idea how low it was.

"That might have been true when he was first starting out," she finally said. "But he's been working as a hero for over a year now. He's proved himself." She sighed, and drank more tea. "I won't try to make you tell the whole city. But if you're really planning to stay with Danielle, you need to tell her. The longer you wait, the angrier she's going to be when she finds out. And she _will _find out, don't kid yourself."

"And what makes you such an expert?" he demanded.

". . . I speak from experience." She brushed her hair back, thinking.

She really didn't want to talk about this. Their very long talk was supposed to be about _him. _But if it would drive her point home . . . "Do you remember Bernard Anderson?"

"Uh . . ."

"The so-called 'supers' expert? He wrote those articles on Megamind?" When he still drew a blank, she rolled her eyes and said, "He was going to be chief archivist at your museum?"

"Oh, _him, _right! Grouchy little guy with glasses? Wore turtlenecks a lot?"

"That's Bernard," Roxanne said wryly. "Anyway, one night, not long after you . . . _left, _I went back to the museum. It turned out Megamind was there too." She decided not to mention that he'd been there to _destroy_ the museum. Most likely, Wayne already knew. "He didn't want me to catch him, so he disguised himself –" she held up one wrist to indicate, "– as Bernard, and dehydrated the real one. I never knew Bernard all that well, so I didn't really notice he was acting differently."

She told him the rest of the story – the important parts, at least. How Megamind, for the first time since she'd known him, had been able to let down his villainous façade and be _himself_. And how his true self had turned out to be a man she could fall in love with . . . if she hadn't believed he was someone else.

"I was furious when I found out. I did forgive him, eventually. Finding out you were alive helped. And we've been together ever since. But Wayne, he and I never went beyond one kiss before I learned the truth. If things had gotten more serious . . . I'm not sure I could have forgiven him." Privately, she liked to think she could have. But that wasn't what the man across from her needed to hear right now.

It worked. She watched him wringing his hat in his hands, torn by her words. ". . . You're right. God, Roxie, you're right about everything." He sighed miserably. "I'll tell her. If the whole world finds out afterward, I'll deal with it. But . . . one request?"

Her expression finally softened. "Sure. What do you need?"

"Can you be there when I tell her?"

She gave him a gentle smile. "Of course." She thought for a moment. "Why don't you bring her here? Neutral territory. You can say you're helping a friend pack for moving, and, well, we can see how it goes."

"I think that might work," he said, finally relaxing. "Roxie, thank you so much."

"It's what friends are for." She frowned as she saw it was nearly dark outside. "Listen, I need to get going soon. Call me once you've talked to Danielle, and we'll work out a time."

As she headed up the stairs, wondering if she produced some pheromone that attracted needy alien men, she heard Wayne call after her. "By the way, what happened to Bernard? The real one?"

"Don't worry, he got rehydrated," she told him. "And he still works at the museum. Though, honestly, I try not to see him much. It's too weird."

#-#-#-#-#

His collar was getting uncomfortable. Megamind unfastened it and pulled off the shoulder guards, cape and all, and draped the whole thing over a corner of the table. After massaging his neck and shoulders briefly, he started pacing the floor of his workroom again.

The colorful, ever-changing mosaic of papers – notes to himself, details on villains he was fighting, sketches of potential inventions, key photographs (or just ones he liked) – had been moved aside. What now hung suspended in the main section of the floor was another collage, made up of images and data on the missing teenagers.

All day he'd been going over them, arranging the hanging notes in every pattern his brain could think of, desperately looking for a connection. If Lucia and her parents had known the kidnapper, it was likely the others had too.

The missing kids had all come from the East Side, but most hadn't been close neighbors, and he doubted they would have known each other beyond casual acquaintance. Some of them had gone to the same schools, but not all. Their parents – those who had them – hadn't been coworkers.

If only he'd had a normal childhood himself, Megamind thought bitterly, he might have been able to think of more potential connections. He was _missing _something, and it frustrated him horribly.

Evening came, and the Lair turned gray and gloomy. But he kept pacing like a caged animal, checking notes over and over, hoping something would emerge . . .

"Would it help if you turned on some lights?"

Megamind looked up with the first smile he'd had all day. "Roxanne!"

"I said I'd be here." She crossed the floor to him and he leaned in, expecting a kiss. But she only hugged him, and he frowned as he felt how tense she was.

He'd seen that before. Something emotionally painful had just happened, and she was trying not to show it. "What's wrong?"

She sighed. "Nothing's actually _wrong. _It's just . . . Wayne dropped by before I came over. Nothing happened," she added quickly, before he could get angry. "But we talked, about a lot of things. I'm feeling a little drained."

He stroked her silky hair. "I understand." He'd discovered over the course of their relationship that this was generally a safe reply, but he did mean it.

"He wants to tell Miss Dymond who he is."

Megamind gave a derisive snort. "That should be fun to watch."

"Well, I can tell you how it goes. I promised him I'd be there to help with damage control." She stroked his cheek. "Are you okay with this? If the word gets out . . ."

"Right now, it's the least of my concerns." He let go of her and gestured to the hanging collage of photos – a three-dimensional version of the board at the community center. "I'm overlooking something, Roxanne, I _know _it. And there's still no word from the medical examiner, and . . ." The thought had been growing in his mind for the last two days, but he was still afraid to say it.

"And . . . ?"

"And I fear it may be too late regardless." He bit his lip. "When I thought the kidnapper was motivated by money, I had hoped we'd be able to track down and rescue all of his victims. Live captives are far more valuable than dead ones. But knowing that he's unstable, and apparently kills on a whim . . ."

He saw his girlfriend try not to shudder. "Even if that's true, you still have to find them," she said quietly.

"Roxanne –"

"For their families' sakes." Her voice was choked. "They deserve answers. They need to know it's over." She walked over to the table, hugging herself. ". . . I've told you about Seth, right?"

"Your brother?" He followed to her side. "You told me he died, yes. When you were thirteen?"

"He didn't just die," Roxanne said softly. "He was killed. Hit by a car when he was walking home. And they never caught the driver." She swallowed. "My mother . . . Megamind, it _broke _her. I think if they'd caught the guy, she could have had some closure. But she never did, and she's never really healed."

He gently put his arms around her. "I remember when you told her about us. But," he tried to bring up a happier thought, "at least Jason seemed pleased with the news."

She managed a smile. "I'd hoped he'd be. He was broken too when Seth died. They were twins, you see, and so close . . . imagine how you'd feel if you lost Minion."

Megamind imagined it, and hugged her tighter.

"So I took care of him after that. We took care of each other, really. I know it sounds pathetic, a teenager going to her little brother for support –"

"It doesn't sound pathetic," he told her. "It sounds like it was you and Jason against the world."

Smiling, she snuggled back against him. "Once all this is over, I need to drag him here for a visit. I think you two would like each other."

He kissed her cheek. "If he's anything like his sister, we'll get along just fine."

She turned to touch his face, smoothing her thumb along the line of his goatee. She was just about to finally kiss him when the phone rang.

Megamind's eyes snapped open. "Ah, more on this later!" In leaps and bounds, he raced for the wire-bedecked hub where he'd set up a customized telephone apparatus, with multiple lines for different official uses. As Roxanne scurried after him, he yanked the handset from its flashing berth. "Ollo?"

"_Evening_, _mister_ _hero_." On the other side of the line, Megamind recognized the nasal drawl of Dr. Lehrer, the medical examiner.

"Finally!" the addressed hero couldn't keep himself from snapping. Noting Roxanne's look of interest, he turned on the speaker.

"_Sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you. You're a busy man, and I wanted to be sure before –"_

"Never mind that! What did you find out about the Reyes-ees?"

_"Well, it was hard to tell much from the outside at first glance. The fire really did a number on them. But I can tell you that their _insides _were just fine. No smoke in the lungs, no respiratory burns, nothing."_

"So they were dead before the fire started." _Tell me something I don't already know. _"Then what _did _kill them?"

"_You're gonna like this one. I got suspicious after I examined their lungs, so I checked for signs of foul play. Nothing. They weren't stabbed, or strangled –_"

"I'm not interested in how they _didn't _die, doc-torr," Megamind growled. "Please get to the point!"

_"Fine." _The examiner sounded a little put out. "_After we ruled that out, I ran every tox screen I could think of. I actually ended up running them several times, because you are not going to believe what turned up."_

"Some sort of rare, exotic poison?"

_"You could call it that. Propofol."_

Megamind's mouth dropped open. "The ahn-yes-thetic?"

"_The very one. Their systems were _loaded_ with it. A dose that big would have killed them instantly." _

"Sir?"

Both Megamind and Roxanne turned as they heard Minion's voice calling from the upper floor. Eyes still wide, the blue alien said quickly, "I'm afraid I have to go. Send me a copy of the full report!" Before the examiner could reply, he hung up and headed for the stairs.

And nearly ran smack into Minion coming the other way. The cyborg fish was carrying a stack of papers, and barely managed to lift them out of the way in time. "Sir, you should – !"

"Minion, there's – !"

"I think I found – !"

"We have to check – !"

"But – !"

"I – !"

"Okay, everyone just calm down!" Roxanne held up her hands for quiet.

Embarrassed, the two alien males obeyed.

Minion broke the silence first. "Sir, I think I know who the kidnapper is."

#-#-#-#-#

With his two friends' full attention, the fish led them back to the "idea room" and set the documents on the table.

"It was the hoverbike records that got me started," he explained. "There was a bike was sold last February, to an address here in the city. The buyer's name was listed as Francis Tremblay."

"You're sure the name is _Tremblay?_" Megamind asked. A sick, icy feeling rose in his gut. _But the first name is Francis, it could be a coincidence . . ._

"Positive. But the thing is, Sir, Francis Tremblay doesn't live in Metro City. He _did, _but he's been in a nursing home in Lansing for the last three years." Minion showed them some files. "And I doubt he could have ordered a bike anyway. The records showed he was admitted after a severe stroke. I talked to the staff, and they say he's basically a vegetable."

Words echoed in Megamind's head. _My father was a doctor before me. He specialized in diseases of the rich. _

"So we're dealing with identity theft?" Roxanne asked.

"Not completely, Miss Ritchi. There's no flight license for the name Tremblay, but I _did _find one issued to a Kathleen Janssen. I called the instructor to get a description –"

"Let me guess," his boss muttered. "A tall, bespectacled female with hair the color of industrial soap?"

". . . Not those exact words, but yes." Megamind noticed that his friend shivered for a moment.

The blue man himself, however, relaxed a little. "Kathleen is affianced to a Jeffrey Tremblay. If she has access to his family's finances, he may not be aware –"

But Minion was shaking his head – or rather, his whole body. "Francis Tremblay does have a son named Jeffrey, but he's the one I'm most suspicious of, Sir. Look at this." He pulled out a frighteningly large section of the documents. "After the son finished residency, he worked at Metro General Hospital. And he was _fired._"

Megamind gaped. "Whatever for?"

"Stealing."

"I _remember_ this," Roxanne exclaimed as she looked over a printed news article. "There was a huge scandal at Metro General about three years ago. Some of the staff were running a drug ring out of the hospital's supplies. I don't think anyone was formally charged, but they did fire a bunch of people."

"Including Jeffrey Tremblay and Kathleen Janssen," Minion said. "I couldn't find where Kathleen went after that, but the only job Jeffrey could get was at the Metro Juvenile Detention Center."

Megamind nodded. "He did say he'd worked in the infirmary there."

"Well, he wasn't very good at it. During the last four months he was there, five or six kids died from 'medical conditions'." The documents in Minion's hand flapped as he made airquotes.

"_Died?" _An icy bolt of horror shot down Megamind's spine. He recovered just enough to ask,"And what do you mean, five _or _six? Don't they know?"

"That's where it gets weird, Sir. See, I found all the documentation on the first five kids. But the sixth one, a girl named Violet Morgan, never got a death certificate. She just kind of . . ."

". . . _Disappeared_," the three of them finished together.

Three sets of eyes, green and blue and golden-brown, locked with each other.

"We have to find Dr. Tremblay."

_**To be continued . . .**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** Life Is What Happens (5/6)

**Author:** Lady Stormcrow

**Word Count: **14,614

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** In this chapter, the stage is set for the final showdown, there is evil monologuing, and all Hell breaks loose.

**Warnings:**Violence, blood, gruesome/squicky images (we finally learn what's being done to the kids), and general harm to various characters.

**Chapter 5**

_Lucia Reyes sang in the dark._

_She knew it was stupid, something a scared little kid would do. When she was younger, Mama had called her brave because she wasn't afraid of the dark, but she'd never thought of herself as brave. It was just that the darkness never grew deep enough to frighten her._

_But she needed to hear a voice now, even if it was her own. It had been two days since she'd seen another person. She __thought it was two days, anyway; there were no windows, and they'd taken her watch away when they brought her in._

_She'd been walking to the community center on a Monday afternoon, looking forward to music class. A pretty lady with golden glasses had approached her. The lady had said she worked at the center, so they'd walked together, chatting, until they ran into the doctor Lucia had met on Saturday._

_Growing up, her family had often lived in bad neighborhoods. Papa had taught her how to fight back if someone grabbed her – the right places to kick and gouge and bite. She'd been too petrified to fight Psycho Delic when he took her hostage, but she'd sworn she'd be braver next time._

_But the doctor wasn't a stranger. She'd stopped when he greeted her, and a moment later the lady with the glasses had pinned Lucia's arms behind her back while he stuck a needle in her neck. She'd blacked out before she could even scream, and she'd woken up in this bare white room, strapped to a hospital bed._

_The nightmare had started after that. Needles in her arms. Noxious liquids she had to drink – if she refused, the white-coated guards threatened to put a tube down her throat. Electric shocks. Burning chemicals smeared on her skin. And all the time, that doctor had been there._

_Then, one day, she'd woken up with the IV gone from her arm. Her captors had unstrapped her, turned off the light, and told her to make it bright again._

_And she had._

_And it had gotten easier each time she did it._

_The doctor seemed happy about that. He told her that there were other kids here, who were __**special **just like she was. If she kept being a good girl, she could go join them._

_She'd yelled that she wanted to go home. He'd told her __**this** was her home, so she'd made it so bright that he reeled back, blinded. The guards had tranquilized her and locked the door, and that had been the last time she saw a human face._

_But she knew they were watching her. They came in when she was asleep, leaving food and emptying the portable toilet. If she did something to draw attention, maybe someone would come now._

_"Dah-dah-dum . . . I have eyes that can see right through leaaaaad . . ." Her voice seemed to echo more than ever. The light grew, and Lucia listened._

#-#-#-#-#

The receptionist at the Aurora Street Free Clinic listened to the request.

"Mister, you _know _I can't let you see our records," she replied, as kindly as she could. "That's the very definition of violating doctor-patient confidentiality."

The young Asian man gave her a pleading look. "I don't need the complete files, madame. I merely wish to know if any of these people visited your clinic. Could you check for me?" He showed her a list of names. "Please, dear lady? You'd be doing a great service to the city."

His puppy-dog eyes did her in. The receptionist had worked at the clinic since it opened last January, and she was already burnt out from dealing with belligerent people walking in off the street and demanding immediate attention. Someone asking nicely, especially a cute young guy, was a very welcome change. She took the list. "Okay then."

The visitor watched her as she browsed the alphabetized names. Maybe not pure Asian, she thought – his eyes were such a vivid green.

"You really did your homework," she remarked at last. "They're all in there except for Reyes."

"I do pride myself on being thorough." The young man leaned one elbow on the desk, trying hard to be suave, which she found kind of endearing. "Tell me, what's it like to work here? Would you say you're satisfied with your job?"

The receptionist glanced around before answering. "Between you and me, it's a nightmare. Pretty much no one around here can afford a regular doctor, so if they even get a hangnail they try to barge in here and get everything fixed for free. Half the time they're not even sick, they just want attention."

The visitor raised an eyebrow. "I spoke to Dr. Tremblay a few weeks ago. He seemed pleased with the way the clinic was operating."

"He would be," she said, rolling her eyes. "He promoted the hell out of this place when we opened. Free flu shots, that kind of thing. Don't get me wrong, his heart's in the right place, but he doesn't have to deal with the crapload the rest of us do."

"You mean he doesn't come in every day?"

She shrugged. "He did, at first. These days it's usually just two or three times a week." She muttered something about rich boys with too much free time.

"But people like him, I understand?"

"Yeah, he's a sweet guy. Great with the kids." When the visitor frowned, she quickly added, "Hey, not like _that!_ For god's sake, he's _engaged_."

The visitor started to say something, but his wristwatch beeped. "Ah, I'm afraid I have to go. Thank you very much for your help."

"No problem." She smile. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. – ?"

"Yamada. Kenny Yamada," he replied, and stepped out the door.

#-#-#-#-#

Outside, "Kenny Yamada" walked down to the corner of Aurora and St. Joseph, still keeping an eye on the old brownstone that housed the clinic.

Something followed him. From a distance, it looked like a heat shimmer in the air. Closer, it took on the faint outline of a large, burly figure – completely transparent, but not _invisible_unless it kept perfectly still.

In the cloudy afternoon light, the shape of the invisible car could only be seen if you knew to look for it. "Kenny" ducked inside, and with a twist of his watch, the young cameraman changed back into a blue-skinned, big-headed alien.

"Code: did you find anything?"

The driver's-side door opened. In a glimmer of blue, Minion's gorilla-suited form appeared in the seat. "Code: I'm afraid not, Sir. The upstairs apartment was empty. It doesn't look like anyone's lived there for at least a week."

"I should have known it wouldn't be that easy," Megamind sighed. He pulled up the car's onboard computer and opened a customized map of the East Side.

They'd put it together at the Lair last night. While a camera-bot projected the map's image onto a wall, Megamind, Minion, and Roxanne had moved together as if in a dance, tacking up the names and images of the missing kids based on home address. When they were done, the two dozen squares had formed a rough egg-shape on the map – with Tremblay's clinic in the middle.

Megamind went over the evidence again in his head. The clinic had opened just two weeks before the first child disappeared. All of the victims had visited the clinic, except for Lucia. And Tremblay had examined her at the community center.

_Dear god, I practically __**handed her over**__ to him!_

Tremblay's fiancée was trained to fly a hoverbike. Mr. and Mrs. Reyes had been poisoned with propofol, a drug only medical professionals could get hold of easily.

Everything pointed to Dr. Tremblay and Miss Janssen . . . but there was no _motive_. The human trafficking theory seemed unlikely. From what Megamind had heard, the Tremblay family was already wealthy, and if Jeffrey needed extra funds, it would have been much easier to go back to trading medicines on the black market, the way he had at the hospital. But the idea that he was taking the children for _personal _use didn't fit either. Most predators chose a "type" of victim, and the missing boys and girls varied greatly in appearance and background.

Megamind's thoughts kept creeping back to the records from the juvenile detention center. Five teenagers dead, and a sixth one missing. But Tremblay had worked there for over a year - why had they only started dying in the four months before he quit to open the clinic?

"You saw Miss Janssen yesterday, Minion. Did she say anything about where they might be going?"

"Not really, Sir. She just talked to Mrs. Sanders, and all she said was that Tremblay was sick."

"In more ways than one," Megamind growled. "We'd better go speak to Alicia. She may know something." He slid down in the seat with a sigh. "And she deserves to know anyway."

Minion frowned as he started the car. "You're . . . very fond of her, aren't you?"

His ward shrugged. "Of course. She's proved to be a valuable ally."

"I don't just mean that. I mean . . . well, it seems like you've been spending a lot of time with her."

Megamind's eyebrows rose. "Minion, are you _jealous?_"

The fish winced. "No!" His tail flicked nervously. ". . . Okay, maybe. A little. I know it's stupid, but –"  
>"But what?" His boss pushed the computer back, his voice cool and questioning. "You don't want me to have other friends?"<p>

"I didn't say that!"

"But you were thinking it."

"I wasn't! Sir, really, it's nothing! I just . . ."

"You just _what?_"

Minion unhappily sank to the bottom of his dome. He hadn't meant to let any of this slip out, and especially not _now_, when they were in the middle of an investigation. But it was too late to take it back. If he didn't speak up now, he knew he'd never have the courage to do so again.

". . . I miss how it used to be, okay? Not the being-evil-and-always-losing part; that I can live without. But I miss how it used to be just the two of us and the brainbots. Suddenly you've got all these new friends, and Miss Ritchi's moving in, and you want to get _married_. . . I feel like I'm not important anymore."

His friend's expression softened. "Oh Minion, I didn't –"

He stopped as a tinny musical tune rang from a clip on his belt. Unlike the official line at the Lair, the cellular phone Roxanne had bought for him was strictly for personal use, and only a chosen few had the number. "We'll talk about it later," he told Minion, and flipped the phone open. "What is it?"

_"Hello to you too,"_ Roxanne's voice quipped back. _"Any luck tracking down the good doctor?"_

"Not yet. We're about to go check the community center," he said, as Minion pulled up outside the blue-pipe-and-plexiglass awning. "Oh, and give Kenny my thanks."

_"I will."_ Roxanne smiled on the other end, remembering how surprised and flattered her cameraman had been when Megamind requested his help that morning. The blue hero had needed a disguise, and the image of a clean-cut young man known to work in journalism was a safer bet than scanning someone off the street. _"Listen, I wanted to let you know I'm probably going to stay at the loft tonight. Wayne called back."_

"He still intends to confess to Miss Dymond?"

_"Mm-hm. He's bringing her by this evening. The official story is that they're going to help me pack."_

Megamind smirked as he imagined his former rival being forced to do manual labor without the aid of his powers. "And you'll, as you said, assist with damage control?"

_"That's the plan."_ There was a pause on the other end. _"You know Miss Dymond better than I do. How do you think she'll take the news? Really?"_

"Not well," he replied smugly. "She's a bitter and unpleasant woman."

A cool tone of disapproval crept into Roxanne's voice. _". . . I'll let you know how it goes. Good luck with the search."_Before he could say anything else, she hung up.

Megamind avoided the look Minion was giving him as they walked into the building. Okay, maybe it was a little petty to delight in the thought of Wayne getting his heart broken. Okay, maybe it was _very_petty. All right, fine, it was nasty and un-heroic and a little too evil even for him.

But nothing had _ever_hurt the other alien before. Decades of battles and death traps had all turned out to be a joke. The full, concentrated power of the sun didn't even leave a blister. If only, just once, someone could cause the ex-superhero pain . . .

Memories suddenly rose in Megamind's head. Sitting at a candlelit table, disguised as someone normal. Gazing at the woman he loved, and daring to hope that, despite all he'd done, she might love him back. The truth revealed, and all his hopes dashed. Left alone in the darkness and rain. Loneliness hurting more than ever, because now he knew how wonderful love could be, and knew he would never have it again . . .

_**Stop it!**_ he mentally snapped at himself. Their situations weren't the same at all! Wayne barely knew Danielle; he'd get over her easily. And anyway, it was no concern of his. So what if Wayne seemed to want to be part of his life again? That didn't mean they would ever be _friends._

He didn't have to _forgive _him.

#-#-#-#-#

Alicia's throat twitched as she swallowed. "It was _Tremblay?_"

"It looks that way." Megamind tried to speak calmly and casually, not liking the way her face was turning gray. "But I could be wrong! That's why I need to speak to him. The apartment over the clinic is his and Kathleen's residen-tee-al address, but it's deserted."

"If they're not there, I don't know where they'd be," she told him. "He . . . my god, he made such a big thing about wanting to live right here in the neighborhood. I thought it was _charming_. . ."

"You shouldn't blame yourself, Alicia. He fooled all of us, even me." The blue man pinched the bridge of his nose miserably, remembering how the doctor had flattered and fawned over him. And, god, he'd _liked_ the man! He'd _recommended_ they let him work at the community center! "He knows how to manipulate people. He actually told me I'd _inspired_ him, and I _listened_-"

"Guys?" Minion spoke up from the office doorway, where he was keeping watch. "Could you play the blame game later? Right now, we need to _find_them. Can't we, I don't know, call Tremblay and ask him to come over?"

Megamind shook his head. "I'm half-sure he knows we're looking for him. Disappearing like this is much too convenient. I don't want to alert him by suddenly calling."

"Maybe he'd be suspicious of _you_," Alicia said, a grin starting to spread across her face. "But he doesn't know _I'm_on to him. And it just so happens, he gave me his personal cell number. Guess he really wanted to win me over," she added through gritted teeth.

Megamind's eyes widened. "_Perfect!_" he exclaimed, speaking to both of them. "Call him right now, before the hour grows late!"

Alicia was already picking up the phone. She checked a number and dialed, and after a few rings, someone picked up. "Dr. Tremblay? Hey there, it's Director Sanders. Down at St. Joseph Street?"

Megamind pointed at the phone frantically, mouthing "speaker!" Quickly, Alicia switched it on.

Jeffrey Tremblay's mild tenor voice filled the office. _"Ah . . . hello, Mrs. Sanders. Is everything going well?"_

"Oh, we're doing okay," Alicia spoke back, keeping her voice bright and friendly. "But, I gotta tell you, our health services people are getting swamped today. Mostly just spring allergies, but no sense taking chances. I really would appreciate it if you'd come help pick up the slack."

_"Th-that's really not possible,"_ Tremblay replied. _"Kathleen told you I'm sick, right? Terrible headaches. I don't trust myself to properly examine patients right now."_

Alicia looked up at Megamind, silently asking what to do next. He gave her a "go on" nod. "You sure? We miss you here."

_"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Sanders. Hopefully I'll be better in a few days."_

Megamind knew they couldn't keep pressing without making the doctor suspicious. He made outlines in front of his eyes with his thumbs and forefingers, miming the shape of catseye glasses.

Alicia understood. "Well, maybe you could send Miss Kathleen down, then?"

_"I w-would, but she's quite busy."_ Tremblay paused. _"But if you truly need someone, I can ask Roger to go. He knows how things operate."_

Alicia waited for an answer from Megamind. Reluctantly, the blue hero nodded, mouthing "better than nothing". "That'll be fine, doctor. I'll expect Mr. Janssen soon. Hope you feel better!"

_"So do I,"_ Tremblay sighed. _"Goodnight, Mrs. Sanders."_

"Doc-" She frowned as he hung up.

"So who do we have coming?" Minion asked, puzzled.

"Kathleen's brother," his boss replied with a frown. "You met him at the concert, I believe. A thick young fellow who talks to himself?"

"It's still a good bet," Alicia told them. "From what I've seen, the three of them are thick as thieves. If Tremblay and Kathleen are up to something, chances are good Roger's in on it."

#-#-#-#-#

While Alicia stationed herself at the front desk, Megamind and Minion waited in the empty clinic room.

"This is wrong," the blue genius grumbled, after half an hour had passed.

Minion looked up from the tower he was building out of tongue depressors. "What is?"

"_This._" Megamind spread his arms, gesturing to the small, pristine white room. "We know who the villain is. I should be challenging him to battle out in the streets, not hiding in here waiting for his errand boy!"

Minion shrugged. "You said it yourself, Sir. This guy doesn't think he's a villain. If you challenged him, he wouldn't show up." He smiled at his friend. "And if he did, he wouldn't stand a chance."

Megamind perked up. "True." After a moment's hesitation, he joined in the tower construction. ". . . You _are_still important to me, you know."

". . . I know. And I really am happy for you guys."

"Well, I still haven't actually _asked_her." When his dinner date with Roxanne had been interrupted on Saturday, he'd stashed the ring box in one of the pouches of his utility belt, and hadn't yet removed it.

"Hey, you'll get the chance!" Minion gave him a playful nudge in the shoulder. "And knowing you, you'll think of a really great way to do it."

Megamind smiled, then considered. "Maybe what you need is a hobby, Minion. You could make some new friends of your own."

"Oh, I don't really need –" The fish paused as footsteps approached down the hall. "I think he's here."  
>"Quickly, places!"<p>

Minion moved a sturdy chair into the center of the room, while his master ducked beside the door. As the knob turned, they both switched on the invisibility disguises.

Roger Janssen's bulky figure stepped inside, and Megamind blinked as he saw him. The young man's crewcut hair, the same reddish-blonde as his sister's, had been scorched off on one side. His right hand and forearm were wrapped in gauze, and the alien caught the distinct whiff of burn ointment.

"The _hell_is going on here?" Roger barked at Alicia as he saw the empty room.

The invisible hero slammed the door. "Justice." In unison, he and Minion switched their disguises off.

Several things happened in quick succession. Roger, panicked at the sudden appearance of the aliens, grabbed Alicia with the intent of using her as a human shield. Alicia, not liking this, stamped on his foot. Roger, with a yell of pain, shoved the old woman into the examination table. Megamind, angry at seeing his friend maltreated, delivered a roundhouse punch that caught the heavy man directly in the face. Roger, stunned, staggered back. And Minion, who had been waiting for the chance, shot out his extendable arms and yanked Roger into the chair, his metal ape-hands clamping him in place like shackles.

"If you'll just sit _down_, Mr. Janssen," Megamind said, striding toward him with a toothy grin, "I'd like to ask you some questions."

"Look, I don't know anything!" the young man panted. He outweighed the short alien by at least forty pounds, but cringed back, trembling, as he approached. "You can't do this, I've got rights!"

"Oh, I know that. But you seem to be under the impression that I'll _honor_ those rights. Just because I'm no longer evil doesn't mean I'm _nice_." Megamind ran one black-gloved finger along Roger's bandaged arm, making the man wince. "That looks like a nasty burn. Have you been setting fires?"

"No, I swear!" Roger all but screamed. "She attacked me!"

Minion tilted in his dome. "And who's 'she'? Kathleen?"

"No, the girl-" Realizing he'd said too much, Roger clenched his jaw and tried to give them a fierce, determined glare. However, his constant trembling and the sweat running down his face rather spoiled the effect.

Megamind drew the dehydration gun from its holster. "Clearly, you're not good at keeping secrets. You'll save yourself a lot of time and pain if you answer one question: _where is Dr. Tremblay?_"

"You think that thing scares me?" Roger sneered. "_Everyone_knows how your gun works, Megamind. Dehydrating me isn't gonna help you."

"Oh, but it has other settings." He gave the dial a turn, and the gas-filled chamber glowed red. "'Decompress', for example. Not intended for living creatures, but I could make an exception." He turned it again, and the glow turned purple. "Or 'debilitate', that's a _fun_ one." Another turn, and a wintery blue glow this time. "Yes . . . I call this one 'demoralize'. The effects vary from person to person. Some merely become highly suggestible." He leaned in close to Roger, and his voice lowered to a hiss. "Others, however, are reduced to broken, brain-dead _shells_. Which will it be for you, Rod-zher Janssen?" He placed his finger on the trigger. "Oh, and water does _not _reverse its effects."

The heavy man gulped. ". . . That's the worst you've got? We both know you're not really gonna hurt me." He glanced over at Alicia, who was leaning against the wall, rubbing her hip where she'd hit the table. "Not with witnesses."

"Boy, at this point, I'd _help _him rough you up." The director sauntered up to him, her glare deadly. "You oughta be grateful he's going easy on you. That's the trouble with being a superhero; you gotta keep a good-guy image."

From her pocket, she whipped out what Megamind recognized as the letter opener from her desk. The handle was white plastic, stamped with the Find Your Way logo. The blade, however, was four inches of sharpened steel, and glinted as Alicia twirled it between her fingers like a street punk's switchblade.

"Me, I don't have that problem."

Megamind tried not to laugh as Roger froze in terror. "Now now, Mrs. Sanders," he chided, gently pulling her back by the shoulders. "I can't have you threatening people." He turned back to the petrified Roger. "One more chance to talk, Mr. Janssen. What do you say?"

". . . I never wanted any of this," the young man blubbered, still shaking. "Please, I can't stay, I need my meds –"

"Need your fix, you mean." Alicia slipped the letter opener back in her pocket. "I know an addict with the shakes when I see one."

"If you talk to us," Megamind went on, "I'll see that you get what you need." _Although it may not be what you_want.

Roger slumped in Minion's grip. ". . . They're at Jeff's dad's old house. Out in the woods."

Megamind nodded, re-holstering the gun. "And the children?"

"Them too." He huddled deeper into the chair. "I told you, I never wanted any of it! I didn't know! Kathy's gonna kill me now!"

"If you testify, you'll have protection." Grinning, Megamind set the disguise generator to "record". "Now tell me how to find the house . . ."

#-#-#-#-#

Seen from the air, Metro City was roughly crescent-shaped. The shore of Lake Michigan formed the crescent's inner curve. Along the western half of the outer curve, the land rose in elevation, and streets and buildings gave way to green hills and pine forest.

As the invisible car drove beyond the city lights, Megamind remembered the first time he'd seen these wooded outskirts. They had been his first real glimpse of Earth's surface as his pod fell through the clouds. He remembered the lights of the Scott mansion, a warm golden beacon amid the wintery green. But he'd never reached that beacon, and it had been a long time before he saw green again.

The Scotts weren't the only ones with an estate in the pine hills, although theirs was easily the grandest. Many wealthy families owned property out here, away from the noise of the inner city. Megamind remembered Tremblay saying that his father only treated rich patients. If so, it made sense he would have lived out here among them.

The car's GPS, tracking the address Roger had given before they dehydrated him, took them along a winding country road. The night was dark and cloudy, and the air smelled of thunder. It seemed the year's first spring storm was coming.

_How appropriate._

At last, Minion pulled the car into a gravel driveway. Ahead of them, a line of trees stretched along a gated brick wall. "This is the place. Are you sure we shouldn't call for backup?"

"Not yet. We have to go in _quietly_, Minion." Megamind's expression was grim as he looked up the driveway. "Tremblay has no problem with killing. If he knows we're coming, he may try to," he airquoted, "'get rid of the evidence'."

". . . I get what you mean. So what do we do?"

"The same thing we did at the clinic." Megamind switched the disguise generator on, and transformed into a green-eyed copy of Roger Janssen. "I'll enter by the front door, and look for Tremblay. Meanwhile, _you_ sneak in through the back. If you find the children, _get them out_. Got it?"

"Loud and clear, Sir." Minion switched on his own watch, becoming invisible once again. "Let's do this."

#-#-#-#-#

The Tremblay home was an expanded farmhouse, modeled in white siding and brown granite. The central part of the house rose to three stories, while a lower wing stretched out to one side, over the garage. The windows were large and airy, decorated with green shutters. The whole place would have looked quite homey . . . except that most of the windows were dark, with their curtains tightly drawn.

It should have been some dark, gothic manor, a disguised Megamind thought as he walked up the steep front stairs. The dark and stormy night was coming along nicely - the showdown ought to take place in a scary gothic manor. This place lacked _style._

The blue hero had emptied Roger's pockets prior to dehydration, and it was easy to find the house key. Inside, the front hall looked normal enough. Brightly lit, with a high ceiling, polished wood floors, and paintings on the walls. A grand staircase led to the upper floors. An archway opened on a cozy living room with a stone fireplace, and another arch led into the kitchen.

The only things out of place were the two men sitting in armchairs. They were dressed in white, like hospital orderlies, only Megamind doubted normal orderlies carried Tasers on their belts. _You can dress them up, but henchmen are henchmen._

"Uh . . . hey," he muttered at them, trying to imitate Roger's twitchy movements. "How does it go?"

The white-coated henchmen just nodded, not meeting his gaze. Megamind got the distinct sense that they were on edge, worried . . . no, _scared_about something.

"Listen, I need to speak to Tcheff. You fellows seen him around?"

One of the henchmen jerked his head toward the kitchen, still not looking at him. "In the basement."

Behind a sliding door, Megamind found a flight of concrete stairs. He silently crept down, growing more uneasy by the minute. The basement walls were paneled in white, brightly lit by hanging fluorescent lamps. The air was dry and chilly, and smelled of disinfectant. Somewhere, a refrigerator hummed.

It was the _brightness_that disturbed him the most. Megamind was used to criminals, himself included, who did their evil deeds in the shadows. Everything down here was clean and white; it spoke of someone who wasn't trying to hide what he did.

A row of doors, pristine white like the walls, stretched along one side of a narrow corridor. One of them was open a crack, and the disguised hero peered inside. "Tcheff - ?"

He froze.

Lining the far wall of the room was a row of enormous metal cabinets, with square doors on the front. Megamind recognized them instantly.

Mortuary cold chambers.

He thought of Icepack Lou, who'd kept the bodies afterward. He thought of his own seventeenth year, when he'd broken into the city morgue as part of a failed plot to create a zombie army. Against his better judgment, his heart pounding beneath the hologram, he yanked one of the chamber doors open and pulled out the tray.

It was occupied.

He looked down on the cold, gray face of a chubby boy with dark hair. _Nathan Garcia,_the name whispered in his mind.

Part of the boy's skull had been removed. There were incisions running down his torso . . .

Thoughts of zombies vanished. Now Megamind thought nightmarishly of alien autopsies – creatures, _people_, kept locked away in laboratories while scientists slowly cut them up. In the dark depths of his mind, he knew that could easily have been his own fate. He hated to think about it, but landing in the prison all those years ago might have _saved_ him. By keeping him there, guarded at all times, Warden Greyson had made sure he could never _disappear._

One of these days, I should thank him.

Too late. He was too late to save the children. If Nathan, the second-to-last one taken, was already dead, there was no chance for the others . . .

"Roger?"

Megamind turned as Jeffrey Tremblay appeared in the doorway. It took all his willpower not to lunge at the man.

"I wondered what was taking you so long." Tremblay's tone was mild and friendly. He raised an eyebrow at the open tray holding Nathan's body. "What are you doing with Subject 29?"

"Just . . . checking something."

"We'll have to bury him soon, I'm afraid. The results were inconclusive." The doctor smiled. "But don't worry, Fisher and Torres can take care of that until your arm's better. Speaking of which, I've got your medicine all ready."

Keeping one hand on the de-gun beneath the hologram, Megamind followed him into another room. This one held racks of jars and bottles, a table of chemistry equipment, and a fume hood in one corner. A mad scientist's chemical pantry – a well-stocked one, in the former supervillain's opinion.

Tremblay carefully uncapped a syringe of milky liquid. "I must say, you're handling the delay well, Roger. You're not even shaking."

Megamind stared at the needle. ". . . Yes. Uh, you know, I think I can actually skip a dose tonight. Don't want to get hooked on the stuff!"

Tremblay frowned. "It's a nice thought, but not necessary. You're always so much more pleasant when you've had your shot."

"Really, I'm fine."

Tremblay came closer. "Roger, take your shot. Be a good boy."

Megamind backed away. "I'm telling you, Tcheff, I'm fine! But I did want to ask –"

Something jabbed him in the back. An instant later, the disguised hero screamed as electric fire wracked his body. His muscles locked, useless. Every nerve was on fire. He could have sworn his whole _skeleton_was burning, lighting up like a cartoon x-ray. When the agony finally stopped, he collapsed, limp, on the linoleum floor.

Kathleen Janssen stood over him. In one hand she carried a rod of red plastic – a cattle prod, Megamind realized. She was grinning from ear to ear, apparently delighted that she'd shocked her brother.

"Nice watch, Roj."

His whole body aching and burning, Megamind tried to scoot toward the door, but her boot stamped down on his arm. She ripped the disguise generator off, and Roger's shape blinked away.

The revealed blue hero clenched his jaw as he spoke. "G- . . . good evening, doc-torr."

Tremblay gasped. "M-mister Megamind! . . . Oh god, I didn't . . ." He dropped to his knees beside him. "I'm so sorry, I'll e-explain everything . . ."

Before Megamind could resist, the doctor jabbed the needle into his neck. _Propofol_, he thought as the darkness came. _Minion . . ._

#-#-#-#-#

One nice thing about having an ape body, Minion thought, was that his feet could grip almost as well as his hands. It had been easy for him to scale the high brick wall after boosting his master over. Now he crept across the overgrown lawn, his invisibility disguise working perfectly in the dark.

Decades of breaking into (and out of) high-tech facilities had taught the fish how to outsmart most security systems. He'd been prepared to deal with motion sensors, electric fences, armed watchmen . . . but there was none of that. He _did_see some floodlights along the driveway, but they were shut off.

_Makes sense,_he admitted. This was supposed to be an ordinary house – it'd look suspicious to have too much security visible on the outside.

After casing the place carefully, he spotted what he was looking for. On the back side of the house, a small balcony stuck out from the second floor, overlooking the sloping lawn and the forest beyond the wall. And, yes! there was a tree at just the right distance. Not close enough for a human intruder, but humans didn't have extendable arms.

There was a bad moment as a branch snapped under his weight. A light came on inside the house. A second-floor window opened, and someone peered out – a heavyset older woman dressed in white. Some would have taken her for a nurse, but like his boss, Minion recognized a henchman – or henchwoman – on sight. The woman glared intently at the tree for a moment, but saw nothing. She ducked back inside, muttering about raccoons, and the light turned off.

Moving much more carefully this time, Minion reached out and swung himself onto the balcony. The door was easy to jimmy open, and he stepped inside onto a dusty gray carpet. The darkened room was mostly bare, the remaining furniture covered with dust sheets, but from the size, he guessed it had once been the master bedroom.

As silently as his mechanical bulk allowed, the cyborg fish made his way down the shadowy hall. He passed more dark, empty rooms, and half expected to see a cobwebby ghost or two drifting about. It might have been less scary if he had.

He crossed the landing at the top of the stairs, and started tip-toeing down the hall to the side wing. Ten feet down – just enough to be out of sight of the landing – a heavy sliding door sealed off the rest of the wing. It had been painted to look like the wall, and slid open easily when Minion tried it. He carefully pulled the Forget-Me Stick out, keeping it ready as he stepped through.

The room on the other side was large and well-lit. The walls were sky blue, the carpet soft and green. In one corner was a TV, with a couch and treadmill pointed at it. Along one wall ran a shelf stacked with books and DVDs. There were no windows, but someone had painted clouds on the ceiling and hung up pictures of nature scenes. Minion made a face – it reminded him a little too much of his ward's "special" cell at the prison.

He could see three white-coated goons; the fat woman, reading a magazine, and two men playing cards at a table. They all looked up sharply as the door seemed to slide open on its own, and hurried to investigate. Three whacks of the Forget-Me Stick later, they all dropped to the floor.

As he bound and gagged the guards, Minion suddenly gasped in pain. A terrible headache struck him – cold and sharp, like an icicle jabbed in his brain. Worse, he had the definite sense that he was being _watched._

Then, just as suddenly, it was gone.

One corner of the room led down into a small corridor, with six doors along one side. The doors apparently had glass insets, but when Minion examined one, he saw that they were one-way mirrors. Observation windows. As for the rooms . . . Minion had never been in a college dormitory (although he and Megamind _had_hijacked Metro University's student auditorium once), but he thought the rooms would be a lot like these: small and plain, with a simple desk and bed, and bare walls that the residents were supposed to decorate themselves.

Though he was pretty sure dorm rooms would have windows. And he doubted they'd have deadbolts that could only be turned from the outside.

The first two rooms were empty. The third, however, had an index card taped to the door. On it, someone had written:

**SUBJECT #23  
>Technopath, mid-level, limited electrokinesis<br>**_**Medicate with meals!**_

The room's occupant was a pale boy with messy dark hair. He lay on his bed, deeply asleep, still wearing a pair of thick glasses. Minion guessed his age at about thirteen.

Remembering his boss's orders, Minion nearly unlocked the door and snatched the boy up then and there. But there were other doors, other children – for them to be safe, he had to get them _all_ out. And there were those words, _technopath_ and _medicate_. . .

The fourth room was also empty, but the card taped to the door read:

**SUBJECT #19  
>Pyrokinetic, high-level<br>**_**Monitor behavior carefully!**_

_19?_ Minion thought. _Then what happened to Subjects 20, 21, and 22?_

The fifth room held a lanky black boy who tossed and turned in his sleep. He was a few years older than the other boy – fifteen, maybe – and wore his hair styled in the beginnings of thin dreadlocks. The card on his door named him as **Subject #11**, with **control over plant life, level unknown**.

And the last one, whose card read **Subject #6**. . .

Minion hit the back of his dome in surprise, because Subject #6 was wide awake and staring back at him from the other side of the door. She was a waif-thin black girl of about sixteen. Like the boys, she wore sweatpants and a T-shirt, and she'd draped a blanket over her shoulders. Her hair was painfully short, no more than a dusting over her scalp. Minion guessed her head had been shaved recently.

"I heard you come in," she whispered. Although he was invisible and on the wrong side of a one-way mirror, her eyes followed him perfectly. "Your name is Minion. You're here to rescue us."

"That's right." Minion switched off his disguise and opened her door. "Are you Violet Morgan?"

#-#-#-#-#

Megamind wasn't awakened so much as yanked out of unconsciousness. Fighting down nausea, he carefully, painfully, opened his eyes.

He'd expected a dark, grimy dungeon filled with instruments of torture. Instead, he was in a clean white room lined with steel cabinets. A dry-erase board hung on one wall, covered in notes and diagrams. On a nearby countertop, he could see a stack of folders.

The blue man realized with a surge of terror that he was lying on an operating table. Nylon straps ran across his chest, hips, and knees, and one held down each wrist. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a strap meant for the head – it must not have fit him. Someone had removed his gloves and collar. Worst of all, Jeffrey Tremblay was now standing beside him, holding a syringe.

"And, there we go." The doctor set the needle down and gently dabbed at a trickle of blood on the alien's arm. "H-how are you feeling? Do you want a drink of water?"

Megamind coughed, feeling how painfully dry his throat was. Water _would_ be nice, but there was no way he'd trust anything this man gave him. ". . . I want an _explanation_, Dr. Tremblay."

"And I have one." The ponytailed man sat down on the edge of the table, making the hero wish he could move enough to scoot away from him. "Please, y-you have to believe me, I really didn't want to hurt you! Kathleen, she just gets impulsive . . ." He shot a narrow look at the woman in question, who was rifling through the contents of Megamind's utility belt like a pirate through plunder.

She looked hurt. "I was protecting you, Jeffie. You know that."

His gray eyes softened. "And I appreciate it. But I still didn't want the presentation to go this way."

Megamind coughed again at that word. "_Presentation?_What do you think you're presenting?"

"My project here, of course." Tremblay sounded happy and proud – a little boy wanting to show off for his hero.

"I saw your project," said the alien, remembering Nathan Garcia's dissected body. "It didn't impress me."

"No-no-no, you just saw one of the _failures_," Tremblay exclaimed desperately. "Th-that's unimportant! Please, let me explain, I know you'll like it!"

Megamind glanced around the room, searching for his watch and seeing no sign of it. Tied down, no way to call for help, trapped by a madman . . .

_A madman who __**likes**__ you,_ he suddenly thought. _He wants you to like him, so play along. Talk to him. Make him let down his guard._

"Okay then, . . . _Tcheff_. Tell me about your project."

Tremblay beamed. As he launched into monologue, his stammer vanished. "Well, you see, I've always been fascinated by the concept of superpowers. I hope you won't think less of me for it, but," he chuckled, "I knew Metro Man when we were kids. The Scotts were some of my father's patients, and Wayne and I used to play together." He rubbed one arm as he spoke. "Dad thought the sun rose and set on that boy."

Megamind gave a derisive snort. "He was hardly alone in that. The whole city worshipped Metro Mahn."

"And so they should have!" Tremblay snapped. Then he seemed to remember who he was talking to. "But I always liked _you_ just as much. And I guess I backed the winning team in the end. Survival of the fittest, right?" He gently ran a hand over Megamind's smooth blue head. The alien tried not to shudder as the doctor whispered, "Look at you. So rare, so _special_. You're more than human, and you don't try to hide it."

That phrase, 'more than human', stuck in Megamind's brain. ". . . You _do_know I'm an alien, right?"

"I've heard the rumors. But I knew better than to believe them." Tremblay got up and walked over to the counter. "It's a clever story, of course. It certainly helped your fearsome image. But anyone can see you're quite human." He pulled two folders from the stack. "I think you're familiar with these people. Charlene Rosen, took part in an experimental radiation treatment. She now goes by the name Hot Flash. Simon Morrow, victim of an accident at a chemical plant. Now calls himself Psycho Delic."

"I fail to see where you're going with this," Megamind called at him, although a terrible suspicion was forming in his mind. "And you left out Destruction Worker."

"Robert Casteel?" Tremblay shook his head. "He's a fine inventor, but he doesn't have _powers._"

"Ah, right. I should have realized."

"It's funny, isn't it?" Tremblay went on. "Some people gain superpowers from such accidents, and some don't. Haven't you ever wondered why that is?"

". . . No, actually."

And it was the truth. Megamind had devoted plenty of thought to Metro Man's powers, but almost none to those of human "supers". It had never been important to his plans. And then, when he found himself fighting the Doom Syndicate, he'd been far more interested in _stopping_their powers than in theorizing about the details of how they'd acquired them.

He was ashamed to realize it now. He prided himself on his superior brain, and he hadn't _used_it. "I'm impressed, Tcheff. Please tell me your theory."

"Gladly!" Tremblay set the folders down. "After years of research, I came to the conclusion that there are many, _many_ people out there, who have the _potential_ to gain powers. I've even developed a blood test that detects it. All they need is a _chance_, and they can become –"

"– 'more than human'," Megamind finished for him. "Yes, I think I understand. And you give them that chance. That chemical dousing, or that dose of radiation, or that –"

"But it _works!_" Tremblay shouted.

For the first time, the hero noticed that the doctor _did_look sick. He'd lost weight, and his tan was fading. There were dark circles around his eyes, as if he hadn't been sleeping enough.

"It _works_. Sometimes it fails, but other times it works _perfectly_. And the failures don't suffer! I make sure they go to sleep quietly. I'm not cruel."

Megamind imagined a child, shot full of toxins, burned by radiation, or driven insane by uncontrollable new powers. He very much doubted there was no suffering involved.

"And where do _I_fit into this?"

"Don't you remember?" Tremblay leaned over him, so close that the alien could feel his breath. He could have bitten the doctor if he chose, but feared he might poison himself if he did. "You _inspired_me."

"You keep saying that . . ."

"_You. You_ proved it was possible. You took an ordinary human, a _nobody_, and made him into a _god!_"

In one horrific instant, it all clicked into place. The deaths at the juvenile detention center, the kidnappings . . . they'd all started after Tighten.

Several days after the battle downtown, when people had been returning to the city and Megamind had been in the nebulous area of accepted-but-not-officially-_heroic_, he'd taken Roxanne's advice and held a press conference. He'd explained that, yes, he _had_ given Hal Stewart Metro Man's powers, but only because he wanted Metro City to have a hero again – the man's destructive rampage was _not_his fault. He'd announced that he intended to fix all the damage, and, because he'd promised the city a hero, he'd gladly step up to the role if they'd have him.

Tremblay, it seemed, had missed the point completely. He'd been dazzled by the idea of giving ordinary people superpowers, with no thought to the danger if he chose the wrong person. And worse – far, far worse – he didn't know what he was doing. His subjects _died_, and all he did was write them off as failures.

It took Megamind a long moment before he could bring himself to speak. ". . . Hal Shtewart was an adult. Why do you use teenagers?"

"I thought they'd like it. What child doesn't dream of being a superhero? And these ones . . . they were poor. They came from bad homes. They had _nothing!_I wanted to give them an opportunity."

". . . Let me see if I understand this," said Megamind, trying to stay calm. "You stole them from their families. You kept them prisoner. You _experimented_ on them . . . And you thought they'd be _grateful?_"

#-#-#-#-#

"It was November outside when they brought me in," Violet was saying. "I remember 'cause you guys had just opened the museum. I saw the dedication on TV." She gave a tiny smile. "You got good taste in music."

"Thanks," Minion replied, smiling back. "But that was a year and a half ago. You've been in here all that time?"

"I guess. It's pretty hard to keep track in this place."

"They don't let you have a calendar?"

She shook her head. "No calendars, no windows, no news on TV. They don't want us thinking about the outside world, in case we get the urge to escape."

Minion knew she was probably right, but asked, "They told you that?"

"No, I read it from 'em. Like I read you were here to rescue us."

". . . You can read minds?"

Violet nodded, and jerked a thumb at the card on her door. "Got the nameplate and everything." She looked up at the fish, her dark eyes huge and worried. ". . . I didn't hurt you, did I? When I heard what was going on, I got scared . . ."

_That explains the headache._"Don't worry, I was fine. You just . . . surprised me."

The dark girl didn't look convinced, but she stayed quiet as he unlocked the other doors and woke up the boys. Subject #11 turned out to be named James Walker, and Subject #23 was Reggie Kovacs, who finished his introduction by vomiting loudly into a bucket.

"Y . . . you're Minion!" the pale boy finally gasped. "This is so . . . I mean . . . is Megamind here too?"

"You bet! He's taking care of things downstairs. Once we get out of here, you guys can meet him!" He looked at the three teenagers with a terrible sinking feeling. ". . . Are you three all there is?"

"There's Laurie too," said James. "They took her down to the Tank yesterday. We gotta get her out!"

Minion blinked. "Tank? Like in army tank?"

James frowned bitterly. "_No_. Tank like in fish tank. No offense," he added.

"None taken. But . . . it's just the four of you?"

James and Reggie nodded, but Violet spoke up. "I think there's a new one somewhere. A girl. The doctor thinks about her a lot."

Minion handed Reggie a tissue, and the boy gratefully wiped his mouth. "Then let's go find them."

#-#-#-#-#

"They'll come around in good time," said Tremblay. He sounded light and dismissive, as if there was no doubt in his mind. "Once they realize what a wonderful chance they've been given. And if they don't . . . well, they're unimportant now. Now _you've_ joined us. With your brainpower, there'll be no more failures! We can do _anything_," he finished with a giddy smile.

_Delusional_, Megamind thought. He remembered a discussion he and Roxanne had had once about the nature of evil. There was a quote she'd pulled from somewhere: _the worst kind of villain is the one who believes he's a good guy._

". . . If you truly want me to help you, Tcheff, answer me one thing."

"Of course! Anything!"

"Why did you kill Juan and Maria Reyes?"

Tremblay paused. "Who?"

"He means Subject 30's parents," Kathleen piped up from across the room.

". . . Oh." The doctor gave a miserable sigh. Several chestnut locks had come loose from his ponytail, and fell limply across his face as he bowed his head. "That wasn't supposed to happen. Their daughter was one of the successes! On TV, they looked so sad . . . I thought if I went and explained to them, they'd feel better . . ."

_But they didn't, did they? And you brought the propofol just in case._ Megamind wasn't sure which disgusted him more: Tremblay actually believing the Reyeses would be _happy_to hear he was experimenting on their daughter, or Tremblay panicking and trying to cover up what he'd done, even if more people died.

An idea came to him. "I understand, Tcheff. And you shouldn't feel bad about it. If they talked, it would have ruined your chance to help more children."

Tremblay gave him a grateful smile, so happy that he understood.

_That's right, you delusional monster. Believe what you want to believe._"So, Lu- . . . Subject 30 was a success?"

"Yes, a complete success! She's under observation right now, but we'll move her in with the others soon."

"You know, I have something of a ree-porr with her. That tends to happen when you rescue someone," he added with a chuckle. "Could I see her?"

To the blue man's amazement, Tremblay fell for it. "That's a wonderful idea! Maybe you can convince her to behave!" He unstrapped Megamind's right wrist, and was loosening the left one . . .

"Jeff, hold on a minute."

Tremblay ignored his fiancée as she walked over. "Not now, Kathy. This is what we've been waiting for!"

"Oh, but you _must_ take a look at _this!_"

With a flourish, Kathleen produced the black iron engagement ring Megamind had ordered from Romania. The diamonds flashed under the bright fluorescents. "Now I wonder who _this_could be for?"

The last of the color drained from Tremblay's face as he saw the ring. His eyes widened, startlingly pale in dark hollows. When he spoke, it was a soft, horrified "No . . ."

"It's not what you think!" Megamind said quickly. "It's . . . it's just a romantic gift!"

Tremblay didn't seem to hear him. He clutched at his own head, muttering "No! No, that can't _happen!_ You're _special!_ You can't . . . _lower_yourself . . ."

"Shhh," Kathleen cooed gently. "Jeffie, it's okay." She massaged his shoulders as she spoke. "You want me to go take care of her?"

The words stabbed the bound alien like the blade of knife.

"Would you?" The look the doctor gave her was pitifully adoring. "I think it would be for the best."

"_NO!_" Still strapped down, Megamind tried to push himself up with his free hand. "Tcheff, no, I'll help you! You don't have to do this!"

Tremblay shook his head. "Clearly, I do."

"Don't you worry about a thing!" Kathleen handed her fiancé the ring, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek as she did. She left the room all but skipping.

Megamind's eyes blazed as he thrashed against the restraints. "You have to call her back! Please! Roxanne has nothing to do with this!"

"Exactly." Tremblay walked over to the counter where Kathleen had emptied the utility belt's contents. To the hero's horror and revulsion, he picked up the dehydration gun. "She's not worthy of you. She's inferior. She's _unimportant._"

It said a lot about a person when they believed "unimportant" was a deadly insult.

Tremblay set the ring down in the middle of the floor. He turned the gun until the chamber glowed yellow – the "destroy" setting – and fired.

The bolt of blue blasted a crater in the linoleum. The iron ring glowed white, not melting but _vaporizing_. For just an instant, the diamonds held their shape, and then crumbled into carbon dust.

In a guilty corner of his mind, Megamind was impressed. He'd never tested the gun on diamond before. He couldn't afford to – any gems he acquired where either used in a plot or traded for supplies. But it worked . . . and the ring he'd designed especially for his beloved, the ring he'd put his heart into, was destroyed.

And a sociopath with a needle was after Roxanne . . .

"You'll feel better soon." Tremblay walked over to the operating table again, all gentle sympathy. "This irrational attachment will fade. Believe me, it's better this way –"

Megamind _lunged._

He grabbed Tremblay by his limp ponytail. One vicious yank brought the doctor sprawling down over him - the blue alien looked skinny by human standards, but what bulk he did have was all muscle. As Tremblay fell, Megamind slammed his massive forehead up, breaking the other man's nose with a wet _crunch_.

Tremblay staggered back, whining in pain and shock. "What's the matter, doc-torr?" Megamind spat at him. His nimble fingers moved rapidly as he unstrapped himself. "You can deal out pain but you can't _take_it?"

Blood poured down the front of doctor's cream-colored jacket. He aimed the gun again, but the blue hero leapt from the table and slammed him to the floor. With one hand, he snatched the de-gun back – the other hand locked around Tremblay's throat. His green eyes burned into the doctor's pale gray ones.

"You never fooled anyone. You don't care about giving people opportunities. You just think Daddy will love you if you can give yourself superpowers. You're _pathetic_. And you're . . ." A million words ran through Megamind's head. _Monster. Madman. Evil_. But Tremblay had no doubt heard all of them, from other people he'd strapped to that table. There had to be something worse . . . "You're a _terrible scientist!_"

The gun was still set on "destroy". Blazing with rage, Megamind aimed at the doctor. He imagined Tremblay's swollen, bleeding face exploding, his whole skull blasted to bone shards. Or a shot in the chest, hollowing his ribcage like a roast chicken. God knew the man deserved it. He was a kidnapper, a torturer, a murderer . . .

But _he _was a hero.

Unless they had no other choice, heroes did not kill.

He switched the gun to "dehydrate". One shot, and Jeffrey Tremblay was reduced to a harmless blue cube.

Megamind snatched it up and raced over to the spilled gadgets on the counter. He searched frantically for the watch, didn't find it, grabbed the belt and holster and bolted into the hall. He had to find Minion, they had to warn Roxanne . . .

#-#-#-#-#

"Okay, I've got my corner," Roxanne announced. "Now, on the count of lift . . . _lift!_"

She braced her knees and hefted one end of the red couch. At the corner where the two sections joined, Wayne lifted the other end, and together they moved it off the rug.

This was so _stupid_, the reporter thought. The man across from her could have picked the couch up on one fingertip. She'd sworn to herself before he and Danielle arrived that she wouldn't rush him into confessing, not least because she really _did_want to get the packing finished. But the hour was growing late, and the charade was wearing thin.

The three of them had been what her father used to call "a frenzy of efficiency". The barstools and dining chairs were neatly stacked in a corner. They'd dismantled the tables and bubble-wrapped their glass tops. Pictures and knickknacks had been boxed up, added to the ever-growing cardboard mountain range in front of the balcony doors. The last group project was to roll up the rug.

And Danielle was already starting on that. All evening, Roxanne had made small talk with the woman, trying to read her. She'd learned that she was thirty years old, had grown up in the East Side, and, despite what Megamind had said, did not seem to be a bitter or unpleasant person.

When they'd arrived, Roxanne had heard her whisper something to Wayne that sounded like "- didn't say your friend was _Roxanne Ritchi_. . ." And she'd been uneasy at first, watching the reporter and the musician carefully. Roxanne had actually found it reassuring – if Danielle liked Wayne enough to be jealous, maybe she really could handle the truth.

Except the truth never came. Roxanne had tried to steer the conversation in various directions – how she and Music Man knew each other, or the upcoming Metro Man Memorial Day. But Wayne either told some half-truth or changed the subject. And Danielle kept buying it. _Talk about being blinded by love._

The night was running out. She and Danielle both had work tomorrow. She didn't want to smash her _own _furniture over the ex-hero's head, but if he didn't talk soon . . .

#-#-#-#-#

Following James's lead, Minion and the three teenagers made their way down a hidden spiral staircase. "So why did they put Laurie in the Tank?"

"One of the guards has it in for her," James told him. "He's been pickin' on her since she got here. Yesterday he hit her, so she finally went and burned him."

"It was _awesome_," Reggie added.

Minion remembered the word on Subject #19's card: _pyrokinetic_. "This guard. Was he a big fat guy? With reddish-blonde hair?" He waved a hand at his dome for emphasis.

"Yeah, why?" asked James.

The fish grinned. "Let's just say he's not gonna be hitting anybody for a long, long time."

They passed a landing that looked like it led into the garage. Suddenly, Violet froze on the stairs. She signaled frantically to the others to keep still.

Minion heard bootheels clocking across the cement floor. At first, he thought it might be his master. But the three kids looked terrified – apparently, they recognized those footsteps.

He felt something pass over his mind, like a ripple in the water. A moment later, Violet turned to him and mimed the shape of catseye glasses.

They heard a garage door open, and the patter of rain falling outside. A rustle of plastic. An electronic key beeping. The rocket-like blast of a launching hoverbike. And, finally, the garage door closing again.

"Holy _shit _that was close," Violet breathed at last. "Listen, she knows you guys are here! We've gotta hurry!"

They raced down the stairs to the basement. Minion switched on his communicator, trying not to shout as he called for his boss. There was no answer. _Okay, stay calm. Maybe he just can't talk right now. Oh crud,_ why _can't he talk right now?_

"Violet, listen. You can read people's minds, right? And track where they are?"

The girl hesitated. "Yeah . . ."

"Well, I need you to look for Sir- I mean, for Megamind. He's gotta be close by. Can you do it?"

". . . I don't know." She swallowed. "I'll try."

As she concentrated, eyes squinted and hands pressed to her temples, James brought the four of them down to a dank, shadowy furnace room – the first place Minion had seen that actually _looked_like a dungeon. In the darkest corner, he spotted it.

"Tank" was the wrong word, the fish thought. It was a box, a square metal box about four feet high. There were pipes and a drainage pump rigged to one side. Condensation ran down the dark metal.

_They put **kids** in there? _Furious, Minion snapped the latch and shoved the heavy lid open.

Huddled in one corner of the Tank, chest-deep in the black, icy water, was a white girl about fourteen years old. Her long brown hair made a scraggly curtain in front of her face, not quite covering a blacked eye. Like the others, she wore a T-shirt and sweatpants, now waterlogged and freezing. She looked and smelled like a drowned puppy.

Laurie Bryant winced as she looked up at them. After two days in pitch darkness, even the dim light hurt. "What . . ."

"Hey there." Minion leaned in and reach out a hand. "Feel like breaking out of this joint?" With no objections, he gently lifted the dripping, shivering girl out of the Tank.

"I found your friend," said Violet. She took the blanket off her own shoulders and wrapped it around Laurie. "He's down at the other end of the place. And he's scared as hell about something –"

Minion was already on his way.

#-#-#-#-#

The basement seemed to run the whole length of the house. Megamind darted back along the white corridor toward the kitchen stairs, wondering just how Tremblay had managed all of this. Secret basement rooms, buying cold chambers and lab equipment . . . had _nobody _gotten suspicious?

Of course not. There was a thriving trade network for mad science – he knew that better than anyone. And who would suspect friendly, ordinary-looking Jeffrey Tremblay of being a mad scientist? As for the construction part . . . well, for enough money, people would do anything and say nothing.

He could hear people running around upstairs. The henchmen must have been alerted. They'd have to fight their way out now –

"Esta lucecita, la voy a dejar brillar . . ."

The blue hero stopped in his tracks. The voice seemed to come from all around, echoing uncannily. He remembered what Tremblay had said: _their daughter was one of the successes._

"Esta lucecita, la voy a dejar brillar . . ."

The voice changed. Now it was a focused beam of sound, piercing through one of the doors. Puzzled and hopeful and worried all at once, Megamind followed it.

"Esta lucecita, la voy a dejar brillar. Brillara, brillara, brillara . . ."

He opened the door, and there was light.

#-#-#-#-#

One especially brave goon tried to use his Taser on Minion. The robotic suit, however, was insulated, and all it did was bring him close enough to get hit by the Forget-Me Stick.

Alarms shrieked. The overhead lights flashed. Somewhere, voices on an intercom shouted about emergency, lockdown, _get them_. . .

_They're panicking_, Minion realized. _They've probably been scared of what the kids can do from the start, and now all hell's breaking loose._

He charged through the house like the gorilla he'd been modeled on, the kids trailing after him. Violet panted, near panic herself, "We need to _run!_ They're gonna _kill_us!"

"Not without –" And then he saw. "Sir!"

"Minion!"

Megamind came running toward them out of the kitchen. Beside him was Lucia Reyes, pale and wide-eyed but very much alive. She'd lost her necklace and headband, but had gained a new ornament: a blob of light that floated above her head, constantly changing color and shape.

"Oh Sir, you're all right!" The fish seized his friend in a crushing hug. In his grip, the hero turned bluer than ever.

"Air . . ."

"Oh. Sorry!"

Gasping his breath back, Megamind looked over at the four teenagers. Three faces he recognized. They were a little older now, and a lot more haunted by what they'd been through, but he'd spent too long memorizing their photos not to know them.

"James Walker. Laurie Bryant. Reginald Kovacs –"

"I kinda go by Reggie," the bespectacled boy said shyly.

"Reggie, then. And you are – ?"

"I'm Violet Morgan, and I'm telling you, we need to _RUN_–"

As she said it, there was a blast from the top of the stairs. A splintered hole appeared in the wood at her feet.

Up on the landing, half a dozen guards, including the ones Minion had subdued earlier, were taking aim at them. No Tasers, not even tranquilizers – now they were going for real guns. One of them shouted down at them, "Sick of all you goddamn little _freaks! _Now you're gonna –"

"_GO TO HELL!_" Laurie screamed back. Steam rose from her hair. With an audible _whumm_, her hands were wreathed in orange flame, and she threw a massive blast of fire at the guards.

The upstairs blazed. Carpet and walls caught fire, turning the air red-hot. "So," Megamind coughed, "who's up for running?"

They barreled out the front door. When Lucia stumbled on the stairs, Minion slung her over one furry shoulder. Blinding floodlights came on as they fled down the driveway, the rain bucketing down . . . and then the lights died in a burst of sparks.

Reggie laughed weakly. "Guess the pills are wearing off."

Gunfire. White-coated figures silhouetted against the burning house. The "dehydrate" setting would be useless in the rain. Megamind settled for "debilitate" and returned fire, taking out guards, giving the others cover to get to the gate . . .

Which was locked shut. "Destroy" would open it, but there was one guard still shooting . . .

James halted on the lawn. He reached out with both arms, grasping at the air, his jaw set. His eyes and skin glowed faintly green . . .

And all along the wall, the trees came to life. Branches writhed. Roots reached up. They grasped the brick wall and tore it down like a child's Lego construction.

_'Level unknown'?_ thought Minion._ No kidding!_

The seven of them ran on through the stormy night. At last, they reached the safety of the invisible car. As the kids piled inside, Minion turned on the car's message system. "Okay, we'll need the fire department, and the police –"

But Megamind ignored him. He fumbled for the cellphone he'd left in the car, and dialed frantically. _Oh god, Roxanne, please pick up . . ._

#-#-#-#-#

"I hope you're happy," Roxanne whispered. "I tried to help you, and you blew it."

Wayne didn't meet her eyes. His gaze was on Danielle, waiting for him out in the hall. Still believing he was a normal man who she could love. "At least we got all your stuff packed. You won't have to keep going back and forth until moving day."

"That's not the point, and you know it. I tried to be there for you. I guess I should have known better than to expect you to do the same."

"Roxie –"

"Goodnight, Wayne." She closed the door in his face.

"Are you coming?" Danielle called.

". . . Yeah." He pulled on his trenchcoat, and they headed downstairs together. "Sorry this wasn't much of a kinda-date."

Danielle gave him that warm, adoring smile. "I think we're beyond kinda-dates now."

"I think you're right." _And that's the problem._

"I gotta admit," she said as the elevator descended, "I wasn't too thrilled when I found out it was Roxanne Ritchi we were gonna be helping."

"Yeah, I noticed that. Do you have something against her?"

She looked ashamed. ". . . No, not really. It's just that she was so tied up in the whole Metro Man-Megamind mess –"

"Hey, it's not like she asked to be."

"You sure about that?" She looked wryly amused. "Whenever I saw her stuck in some death trap, she never looked too upset. Annoyed, sure, but not like she was desperate for someone to rescue her."

Wayne paused as he considered that. "Well, she's very brave."

"I guess. I have to admit, she was the only one at City Hall that night brave enough to talk to Megamind. Especially considering he'd just killed her boyfriend."

"You know, they were never actually a couple."

Danielle gave him an odd look as the elevator doors opened. ". . . How _did_you guys meet, anyway? You didn't really answer before."

"Uh . . ." Wayne tried to think of something. He nodded briefly to Carlos as the doorman let them out. "Well, show business, you meet a lot of people . . ."

Outside, the storm was in full force. Danielle tried to pull her copper-colored jacket over her head to block the rain. With a grin, Wayne wrapped part of his coat around her protectively, making her laugh. "Usually I hate it when guys remind me I'm tiny, but you I don't mind."

He held her close, enjoying her spicy-sweet scent. "I say you're only as small as your personality."

"I like that! You could do a song about it." She gazed up past him at something. "Looks like Ritchi's got company."

Through the rain and storm, Wayne now heard the sound of a hoverbike overhead. Lightning flashed, and he saw the dark vehicle land on Roxanne's balcony.

Danielle snorted. "Superheroes. Can't even use the front door like the rest of us."

But Wayne was frowning. "That's not Megamind . . ."

#-#-#-#-#

_Maybe I __**am **__rushing him_, Roxanne thought. The whole situation had touched a deep nerve for her – it might be clouding her judgment. Or maybe Wayne and Danielle would break up for some other reason. Just because they were happy now didn't mean it would last.

Maybe he'd even tell her on his own. _But I wouldn't hold my breath on that one._

With the lamps packed up, the loft's only illumination came from the hanging lights in the kitchenette. Roxanne fetched the last iced tea from the fridge, and went to the couch for a much-needed rest.

Someone was on the balcony. In the darkness, Roxanne could just make out a long black garment and the shape of a large, wet head. Her heart rose. She knew her boyfriend loved her, but knowing he'd fly through a thunderstorm to visit her was still a sweet (if foolhardy) reminder.

Behind the mountain of boxes, she heard the balcony doors open and bootsteps approach. She got up to greet him, but now her cellphone was ringing over on the counter. She turned to the kitchen . . .

"Miss Ritchi?"

The voice was wrong.

Roxanne spun around. A strange woman was in her apartment, walking toward her. Water dripped from her long black rain slicker, and she was pulling off a shiny-wet motorcycle helmet. In the dim light, her face was pale and frantic.

". . . Miss Janssen?" Roxanne had never met Kathleen, but she'd heard Megamind's and Minion's descriptions, and thought it unlikely that there was another tall strawberry-blonde who'd have business with her. When the younger woman took off her flight goggles to reveal catseye glasses, she knew.

"Miss Ritchi, I'm so sorry to intrude," Kathleen panted. She sounded as if she was about to cry. "Ih-it's all gone wrong! You need to help me!"

". . . What are you talking about?" Roxanne tried to back away, but the couch blocked her path.

"I never meant for any of it to happen," Kathleen sobbed. Her face was so wet, there was no way to tell if the tears were real. "I was all Jeff's fault. He said he'd hurt me . . ."

Roxanne hesitated. On the counter, her cellphone went to message. "Listen, it'll be okay. You can get protection if you testify."

Kathleen hugged herself, hands sliding into her coat pockets. "I thought he _loved_me!"

"And maybe some counseling as well," Roxanne added. "Please, just calm down."

Kathleen sniffled. Her hazel eyes were the very picture of heartbroken innocence. "I'm so sorry . . ."

On anyone else, it might have worked. But ten years of being kidnapped had given Roxanne Ritchi an uncanny sense for sneak attacks. She ducked as Kathleen lunged, and instead of going deep into her neck, the needle tore a shallow scratch across her shoulder.

The reporter struck with both forearms, hitting the taller woman in the chest and knocking her back. With her shoulder stinging, she vaulted over the couch and tried to bolt for the door.

A metallic _click _made her freeze.

"I tried to be merciful," Kathleen snarled. In her hand, aimed at Roxanne, was a huge and evil-looking automatic pistol. She bared her teeth in a feral grin. "Now we do it _my_way."

"Are you _crazy?_" The reporter knew it wasn't a very original question, but it seemed valid. "When Megamind finds out –"

"He already knows." With her free hand, Kathleen whipped out the stolen disguise generator. "And he's _ours_ now, Miss Roxie. With him working for us . . . oh, we're gonna _go_places."

_It's a fake_, Roxanne's mind insisted. "You expect me to believe _you_ captured _Megamind?_"

"Don't sound so surprised. It's not like he has any actual _powers_. He was bound to meet his match one of these days." She took a step closer.

Roxanne ducked behind the couch. She'd always known being attacked in her apartment was a risk, but _now_. . . The place was bare. All the things she could have used as weapons were packed away. And the attacker was between her and the door . . .

_But she's vain. She'll want to gloat evilly. Keep her talking until you think of something._

"And what are you planning to _do _with him?"

Kathleen's grin widened. "_Powers_, Ritchi. It all comes down to powers. How much do you think some third-world dictator would pay for an army of super-soldiers? Even the gangs here in the city would pay a fortune if we could make them 'super'. With Megamind's help, Jeff can finally find the right formula. And when he does, we'll corner the market."

". . . And you need me as leverage against him." Roxanne had no intention of going quietly, but if she could get the woman to think she would –

Kathleen laughed. "Wrong. We don't need you at _all_."

Realization crashed in an icy wave. She remembered the words: _I tried to be merciful_. Her body was frozen, but her mind raced furiously.

_She's going to kill me. She can't afford to leave me alive after all I've heard._

_Then why hasn't she fired yet?_

_Because people will hear the gun. She knows she'll only get once chance._

_Once she shoots, she'll have to run._

_**Make her waste her shot.**_

#-#-#-#-#

Down on the rainy street, Danielle smacked his massive arm. "Wayne, what's going on? Answer me!"

But the ex-hero ignored her. He stared up through the rain, all his super-senses on alert. As super-vision pierced through brick and concrete, he saw a stranger approach Roxanne, moving like a stalking predator. He caught a noxious whiff of chemicals, and the metallic tang he associated with human fear. And he heard . . . that was a _gunshot!_

He'd told himself he'd step in if things were bad enough. Well, they were definitely bad enough now. There was no time to run back upstairs. The shortest distance between two points was a straight line.

But . . . Danielle.

She was still watching him, worried, trying to snap him out of his trance. If he acted now, she'd _know._

But his friend was in danger. He was the only one who could help.

But if he did, his girlfriend would never forgive him.

. . . But if he didn't, he would never forgive himself.

"Dee, I'm sorry."

She backed away. "Wayne, you're scaring me. What's wrong?"

"Just . . . please don't hate me."

And, for the first time in two years, Wayne Scott took to the air. He didn't dare look back.

#-#-#-#-#

Kathleen stumbled when Roxanne shoved the couch at her. Struggling to get to her feet, she opened fire in the reporter's direction.

A bullet tore a burning line of pain across the back of Roxanne's skull. Another exploded the plaster in front of her – she changed direction and scrambled up the stairs, hot blood running down her neck. _Please let someone have heard that!_

The upstairs was packed up too. There were some toiletries in the bathroom, but she doubted a safety razor would be much use against a gun. She had a brief, absurd vision of pummeling Kathleen with her pillow . . .

And then she saw the answer. She'd kept a stack of books out as bedtime reading material. Mostly small paperbacks, but there were two massive hardback tomes. Roxanne snatched them up, adrenaline dampening the pain in her head and shoulder for now.

She leaned out over the railing, and shouted at Kathleen. "Do you think Megamind will _ever _help you if you kill me?"

It worked. The other woman turned away from the stairs and followed her voice. "Of course not. Jeff's an idiot for thinking it. But we'll persuade him." Her boots clocked as she crossed the wood floor. "I still want you out of the way. You're a nosy reporter, and nosy reporters make trouble." A strawberry-blonde head came into view below. "You know, he was going to propose to you."

Roxanne nearly dropped the books. ". . . What?"

"Oh yes. He had the _ugliest _ring." Her glasses gleamed as she looked up. "All the more reason to kill you. Say goodnight, Roxanne Ritchi . . ."

A figure in a billowing trenchcoat landed on the balcony. Silhouetted in a flash of lightning, he flung the doors open.

Kathleen turned to look. "What the –"

Roxanne hurled the book like a discus. Its inch-thick spine slammed dead-on into the back of Kathleen Janssen's head. She gave a one small, sick gasp, and dropped cold.

Still keeping the other book ready, Roxanne stumbled down the stairs. She recognized Wayne Scott hurrying toward her. "Roxanne! Are you all right? I heard – god, you're _bleeding!_"

_Now_the pain came back. Roxanne grabbed the entire roll of paper towels from the kitchen and pressed it to her head. "I think it just grazed me." She waved at the fallen Kathleen. "Is she – ?"

"Her heart's beating." Wayne lifted a couch section with one hand and offered her a seat. "That was an amazing shot, by the way. Never underestimate the power of the written word!"

Despite everything, Roxanne laughed. "Thanks."

There was a loud chorus of _bowging _as a swarm of brainbots flew in through the open balcony doors. Several seized the unconscious Kathleen and started tying her up. Others anxiously flitted around Mommy, who quipped, "Looks like the cavalry's here."

And on that note, someone pounded on the front door. "Wayne?"

The man in question smacked his forehead. "Danielle!" He hurried to open the door.

Roxanne raised an eyebrow, and immediately wished she hadn't as pain shot through her scalp. "I'm guessing she knows now?"

"Knows _what?_" A soaking wet Danielle Dymond stormed into the apartment. "All I know is one minute we were down on the street, and then _he_goes all quiet and scary, and then . . . then . . . he . . . flew . . ."

Roxanne could almost _see_the lightbulb click on in her head.

She wasn't shouting anymore. Now she was staring at Wayne, as if truly seeing him for the first time. ". . . No. No, that's not possible. You _died_." It came out as a whisper.

"His death was greatly exaggerated," Roxanne muttered. Still holding the paper towels to her head, she seized her cellphone and did her best to dial one-handed.

Megamind's answering voice nearly deafened her. _"ROXANNE! Are you all right? You didn't pick up! Stay where you are, the brainbots are on the way –"_

"They're already here! Where are _you?_Janssen said you were –"

_"Janssen's coming to . . . oh no, she's__** there?**__"_

"Don't worry, the brainbots have got her." Two of said 'bots were carrying the trussed-up Kathleen slung between them, making Roxanne think of movie cannibals hauling their captives to the feast. "She said you were captured!"

And something else, she remembered. _He was going to propose?_

_"Only temporarily. And we found the children!"_

Since his tone sounded happy, she said, "That's great! Listen, I'm going to the hospital –"

_"We'll meet you there!"_

"And I better go with you," Wayne spoke up.

Roxanne started to object, but a wave of dizziness struck her. She managed to catch herself on the counter. "Okay, maybe I could use some help. But someone needs to stay and talk to the police."

Danielle's quiet, broken voice spoke up. "I can take care of that."

Wayne looked at her desperately. "Danielle . . ."

"I won't tell anyone." She turned away from him. "Just . . . when you get back, please give me some answers."

"Dee . . ."

"Please. Just go."

"I . . ."

"Uh, hello?" said Roxanne. "Kind of bleeding here?"

With no other choice, Wayne helped her out the door.

Only as they left did Danielle look back over her shoulder.

_**To be concluded . . .**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** Life Is What Happens (6/6)

**Author:** Lady Stormcrow

**Word Count:** 7,400

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** In this final chapter, a great many things are resolved, and some new things begin.

**Warnings: **Memories/talk of sexual abuse (nothing explicit, though), and a potentially unhealthy mix of sadness and fluff.

**Chapter 6**

And Megamind returned to the city.

Thanks to the broadcast Minion sent out, it hadn't taken long for a convoy of police and fire trucks to arrive at the Tremblay estate. The blue hero mentally congratulated them on their speed – perhaps the Metro emergency services weren't beyond hope after all. He'd handed the dehydrated Jeffrey Tremblay and Roger Janssen over to the cops, and directed them to round up the surviving henchmen. Remembering what Tremblay had said about burying one of the "failures", he grimly suggested that they bring in dogs to search the grounds.

The house was mostly destroyed by the time they put the fire out. Considering what Tremblay had done to Juan and Maria Reyes, Megamind found it darkly appropriate.

The alien himself hadn't taken part in the action. Instead, he'd stayed by the invisible car, keeping a protective eye on the five children huddled in the back seat – the only survivors of Dr. Tremblay's mad experiments to create superpowers in ordinary humans. Once the emergency crews had things under control, he'd insisted on driving the children to the hospital himself.

Well, technically Minion did the driving. As they left the darkness of the pine hills, the storm calmed to a gentle drizzle. The kids, most of whom hadn't been outside in months, gazed out the windows at the lights of the city.

When he was sure they weren't listening – the four older ones were introducing themselves to Lucia and welcoming her into their midst – Minion whispered to his boss. "Sir, there's something I want to ask you."

"What is it?" Megamind said, distracted.

The fish fidgeted in his dome. "It's . . . well, they . . ." He glanced back at the teens again, and then simply blurted it out. "Can we take them home with us? Pleeeeease?"

"Minion, they're not stray puppies." Although, piled in the back seat together, the five kids _did_ somewhat resemble a litter of abandoned puppies. "We don't know everything Tremblay might have done to them. They need to see a doctor, a _real _one."

But the words stayed in the blue hero's head.

_Take them home with us?_

A year ago, Megamind would have dismissed the idea outright. _Him_, former criminal genius and master of all villainy, take care of a child? Let alone five of them? He didn't exactly dislike children – they were often some of his biggest fans – but as he'd told Roxanne, he hated it when they _swarmed_.

But things had changed. He'd learned more about how to handle kids through developing the youth program. And these particular ones . . . he'd spent half a year searching for them. He'd just saved their lives – twice, in Lucia's case. In a terrible way, he was partly responsible for what had happened to them. Since he hadn't been able to save the others, he'd have to do even more for the ones who were left.

_It could work. _And there was precedent! Genius superhero takes in orphaned wards, trains them in the ways of crimefighting . . .

But he'd already tried to train a hero once. It had ended with half the city being destroyed.

But he'd learned since then. Minion clearly liked the kids, and the fish was usually a good judge of character. And they were younger than his last student. More adaptable.

. . . No. He was thinking like Tremblay now. Powers or not, they were still _kids_. They looked like normal humans; only those who had been there tonight knew they were _different_.

If there was any chance they could still be normal, he'd have to let them.

#-#-#-#-#

Normal people, in Roxanne's experience, did not tend to visit the emergency room at this hour. The waiting area at Metro General Hospital was a who's-who of late-night city weirdoes. Brave though she was, it was reassuring to have Wayne by her side as she filled out forms.

_But then, I'm not exactly normal either._

"You were incredibly lucky," a nurse later quipped as she finished applying stitches. "The bullet just tore your scalp. Another inch and it would've taken the back of your head off."

"Good to know," was all Roxanne could think of to say. After everything that had just happened, she wasn't feeling terribly witty. "Do you think it'll scar?"

"If it does, your hair should cover it once it grows back."

_Once it grows back_. The emergency room staff were much more focused on fixing problems than catering to patients' personal wishes. When they'd tended her head wound, they'd chopped a large patch of her hair off to keep it from interfering with the stitches. _I guess Kenny will have to film me from the front for a while._

The scratch from the needle was more worrying. Roxanne was fairly sure the syringe had contained propofol – the same m.o. as the Reyes' murders – and none seemed to have entered her system. But since Kathleen Janssen had been planning to _kill _her, she didn't know if the woman had bothered to use a clean needle. Well, there wasn't much they could do except keep an eye on it.

"And there's also the possibility of a concussion," one of the doctors warned her. "When you get home, you should have someone keep an eye on you."

_Home_.

She thought longingly of the Lair, where an armed intruder would be quickly seized by watchful brainbots. Where there was a big, comfy bed that she wanted very much to flop on now. Where –

"Roxanne!"

Yes, where _he _was.

"Megamind!" Over the staffs' protests, she leapt down from the table and rushed to embrace him.

The blue man winced when she touched his back. "What's wrong?"

"I, ah, had a small encounter with a cattle prod. But I'll be fine!" he quickly added. His face turned more gray than blue as he saw her injuries. "You're the one who's been wounded! Roxanne, _what happened?_"

She told him what had happened in the loft that night. "To quote a classic movie, it's just a flesh wound. Believe me, Janssen came out a lot worse."

Megamind trailed tiny kisses over her cheek and forehead – not in a romantic way, but only comforting himself that she was alive and (mostly) whole. "It was my fault she came after you. Tremblay . . . couldn't stand the thought of you being important to me."

His faltering words told Roxanne there was more to the story. She thought again of what Kathleen had said. _He was going to propose?_

She knew the strawberry-blonde sociopath could easily have made it up to throw Roxanne off her guard. It had nearly worked, too. But now that she thought about it . . . there had been those romantic dinners he'd tried to arrange, and all his talk about planning for the future. If it had been any man besides Megamind, she _would _have suspected a marriage proposal was in the works.

If it _was _true, he'd clearly wanted it to be a surprise. And this was definitely not the time or place to discuss such things.

She cupped his cheek to make him look at her. "It was _their_ fault, not yours. I knew the job was dangerous when I took it." She mentally scolded herself for falling back on silly quotes again. _Maybe I __**do**__ have a concussion_. "And I don't care. You're more than worth it."

He hugged her close again, and they stayed that way for several moments. Finally, he said, "Roxanne, there's some people I want you to meet."

The five rescued teenagers were still out in the waiting room. Violet was staying close to Minion, while Lucia, who'd turned off her crown of light for now, was excitedly introducing the other three to Music Man.

As she watched Lucia, Roxanne felt a cold, sinking sensation in her heart. "Does she know?"

Megamind swallowed. "I don't think so."

"Do you want me to be there when you tell her?"

". . . Would you?"

#-#-#-#-#

_I should go_, Wayne thought.

There wasn't any reason for him to stay. Roxanne was safe, and Megamind was there to help her. His little fangirl and her friends had been led away to be examined. There was no one here who needed him now.

He thought of Danielle, waiting back at the loft. _Might as well go face the music._

As he started toward the doors, footsteps approached behind him. He would have known them anywhere.

"Mus- . . . Wayne?"

It was _weird_, hearing his former nemesis call him by his given name. "Yeah?"

Without his collar and gloves, Megamind looked more vulnerable than he'd seen him in a long time. The blue man tugged one sleeve down nervously. "I . . . wanted to thank you. For saving Roxanne."

Wayne shrugged. "She saved herself, little buddy." Too late, he remembered the other alien had told him not to call him that.

But there was no objection this time. "I understand you revealed yourself to Miss Dymond."

"I didn't have a choice," he replied, eyes downcast. "Sometimes you have to do what's right."

Awkward silence followed. A lifetime's worth of memories and words unspoken passed between them.

". . . What will you do now?"

"I promised Danielle some answers." He looked out at the dark street. "Guess I'd better go deliver them."

More awkward silence. More words that neither could bring himself to say.

". . . One thing!" Megamind called as the automatic doors slid open. "The next time you plan to visit the Lair, could you call ahead?"

A smile spread across Wayne's face. "I will."

It wasn't the end of everything between them.

But it was a start.

#-#-#-#-#

The examinations were over quickly. Aside from a few needle marks and Laurie's black eye, none of the kids seemed to have any physical injuries.

"They're even in pretty good shape," Minion told his boss. "They had a treadmill in that place; I guess they used it a lot."

Megamind nodded bitterly. "Like an exercise wheel for a lab rat. Tremblay would have wanted healthy test subjects."

The hospital agreed to keep the children under observation for a few days, mostly because none of the staff were brave enough to say 'no' to Megamind. Now, with the hour long past midnight, the blue hero hesitated at the door to Lucia's room.

"Shouldn't we wait until tomorrow?"

Roxanne shook her head. "She must be wondering already. She deserves to know." She squeezed his hand, and followed him into the room.

Lucia sat up in bed as they approached. Without her pink headband, she looked older than her twelve years. Her hopeful expression turned into one of worry as she saw their faces. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

Megamind paused at the foot of her bed. Oh god, it was the rescue in the stairwell all over again, but worse. So much worse. _If the good guys let themselves lose, they're not the only ones who suffer. _"Lucia, there's . . . something I need to tell you."

She pulled the blanket up closer as her fear grew. "Are my mom and dad coming soon?"

". . . No." Without thinking about what he was doing, he sat down on the edge of the bed. There was no easy way to break the news. "Lucia . . . your parents are dead."

The girl stared at them both for a long moment, her brown eyes wide. When she finally spoke, it was a soft, frightened "No . . ."

"Sweetie, I wish we were wrong about this." Roxanne sat down on the other side of the bed. "But it's true."

"Tremblay killed them," Megamind explained. He gently gripped the girl's shoulder. "And I promise you, he's going to answer for it!"

"When you disappeared, they never stopped trying to find you," Roxanne went on. "They were very brave people, Lucia. And they loved you a lot."

Lucia said nothing. She pulled her knees up to her chest. Her shoulders trembled as she tried to hold back her tears.

Megamind was surprised at the next words that came out of his mouth. ". . . I know what you're thinking." He scooted a little closer. "But you are _not_ alone. And you're not 'different'. You're still _you_– Tremblay couldn't change that. You're not the only one who's been through this. And we'll find you a home, I promise."

She gave a small gulp. Megamind froze as she as she flung her arms around his waist and buried her face in his shoulder. "B-"

"But that doesn't bring your parents back? I know." Slowly, awkwardly, he put his own arms around her. "Believe me, I know exactly how it feels."

Roxanne reached across and rubbed the girl's shoulder. "It's okay, sweetie. You can cry if you need to."

And she did. Her tears dampened Megamind's spandex suit as she wept for her mother and father. And, one orphan to another, he held her, and mourned too.

#-#-#-#-#

"So that must be a relief," Minion was saying, two doors down. "You got a clean bill of health."

Violet huddled deeper into the bed. "They just wanted me out of there 'cause I made them nervous."

"Aw, hey, you don't know that –"

"Yeah, I _do_." She tapped her temple pointedly. "I can't _not _know it." The sixteen-year-old sighed. "So what happens now? Am I going back to juvie?"

"Actually, I checked your records," Minion told her, trying to sound hopeful. "Your sentence was up a few months ago. And since you were taken out against your will, I bet we can convince them to let you go."

Instead of being comforted, the girl suddenly looked frightened. "I'm not going home. If they try to make me, I won't be held responsible for what happens."

Minion remembered what else he'd read in her records. He tried to phrase his words carefully. "You were sentenced because . . . they said you stabbed your stepfather?"

Violet pulled her pillow close, not looking at the fish. "It was the only way to protect myself."

"But your mom –"

"Momma chose which of us she wanted to believe."

The protective instincts that came naturally to Minion's kind rose on alert. "Do you want us to go after him?" He bared his impressive teeth.

"_No!_" Violet snapped. "I don't want to go _near_him, ever again! I don't trust myself."

Minion remembered when she had first probed his mind – that terrible headache, like being stabbed in the brain with an icicle. And he now knew she'd been going easy on him. What could she do to a person if she focused _all _her power?

". . . If you're sure that's what you want," the fish said at last. "Why don't you get some sleep now? We can work things out tomorrow." He turned to go.

"Could you stay a little longer?" Violet asked softly. "Your mind's nice to listen to."

Minion hesitated. "How do you mean?"

"I can't really explain it. It's like . . . most people have this, this _darkness _inside them. They're mad or scared about something, or they're stuck on some bad memory. But you don't have that. All I'm getting from you is," she gave a soft chuckle, "'good vibes', I guess you could call it." She looked up at him pleadingly. "I won't read anything you don't want me to. I just . . . need to feel it right now."

It was an extremely bizarre request. But Minion had spent his life dealing with extremely bizarre requests from someone much more demanding. And this girl needed him right now, and he liked to feel needed.

So he hunkered his robot body down beside Violet's bed. The "I'm-not-alone" feeling of her psychic touch returned, but it felt different this time. Softer, warmer, like being caressed by a gentle hand. It was . . . actually, it was sort of nice.

As she drifted to sleep, Minion heard her humming softly.

"Nah-nah-nah . . . goin' off the rails on a crazy train . . ."

#-#-#-#-#

Two days later, Megamind commandeered one of the hospital's rec rooms. While Minion ushered the five teenagers inside, the blue alien stationed himself at the head of the ping-pong table as if chairing a meeting.

"Misses Morgan, Bryant, and Reyes, and Misters Walker and Kovacs –"

Minion rolled his eyes.

"– there is a matter of great importance I must discuss with you. As you may be aware, the hospital has declared you all healthy, and will be discharging you today."

"Good!" James spoke up angrily. "I can finally go see my grandma!"

After some searching, they had found out yesterday that Rebecca Walker suffered a stroke a few months after her grandson was kidnapped. Since the same thing had happened to Tremblay's own father at a time convenient for his son, Megamind had a nasty suspicion that the good doctor might have paid her a visit. She was alive, but couldn't live on her own anymore, and had been moved to a nursing home on the city outskirts.

The others were in similar situations. Violet's stepfather, it turned out, had died in a car accident last year, and the girl still wanted nothing to do with her mother. The group home where Reggie had lived had closed down. With her parents gone, Lucia's only relatives were some distant cousins in Chicago. And they still hadn't tracked down Laurie's father and his girlfriend, especially after the young pyrokinetic claimed she only wanted to see them again "so I can fry their asses for abandoning me".

"Of course, as soon as possible," Megamind assured James. "But there is another concern. I have been informed that it may be some time before suitable foster homes are found for all of you."

That was the nice version, the blue hero thought bitterly as the kids began to talk among themselves. What the social worker had actually told him was that suitable homes might _never _be found.

_"We'll __**try**__, I swear," the tired-looking young woman had said. "But you have to understand. Teenagers are hard to place as it is. A teenager who can __**start fires**__–"_

_"Don't pick on Laurie!" Megamind had snapped at her. In the back of his mind, he thought of the families who had refused to take in a blue alien child. "It's not her fault she has property-damage capabilities!"_

_The social worker had cringed back. ". . . You're right. But there's another issue. What they went through together . . . it seems to have created a bond between them. They'll need counseling, of course, but I think they'd also benefit just from staying in touch with each other. A kind of informal group therapy."_

_Megamind had looked thoughtful. "And what if they actually lived together?"_

_"I don't think it would hurt them. But none of our foster families have the space or the resources to take all of them at once . . ."_

"So where are we going?" asked Lucia. Although she'd said it as a whisper, her new power of sound and light projection made her easily heard over the others.

Megamind attempted to look stern. "Minion, it was your idea. Would you care to tell them?"

The fish made no such attempt, and beamed happily. "You're gonna stay in the Lair, with us!"

"This is only tem-pora-ree!" Megamind had to shout to be heard over the excited din. "Until a suitable placement can be found! And you'd better behave yourselves! No touching the inventions, no bothering the brainbots, no joy-riding in the invisible car . . ."

#-#-#-#-#

Jeffrey Tremblay and Kathleen Janssen received their right to a speedy trial.

As the full story emerged, a storm of press and media descended, covering every horrific detail. Roxanne couldn't help feeling a little disgusted, but at the same time, she knew it served a purpose. Sometimes people need to see that the nightmare is over and the bad guys have been defeated.

Much of the evidence – including all of Tremblay's research notes – had been destroyed in the fire, but there was still more than enough to build a case against him, especially after the bodies were found. His case wasn't helped when it was discovered he'd once tried to submit a research paper on the possible genetic origins of superpowers. And it escaped no one's notice that Tremblay was a rich white man and most of his victims had been poor minorities.

When she woke up, Kathleen tried desperately to claim that she'd been forced to go along with her fiancé's plots. She gave a very good performance, and it fell apart the moment Roxanne Ritchi took the stand, happy to tell about the woman's evil gloating on the night of the attack. Each of the kids testified that Kathleen had played a major role in their kidnapping and imprisonment, and had always seemed pleased with what she was doing. When Roger also testified that his sister had been a willing accomplice, her fate was sealed.

Even before sentence was passed, there was no doubt that Tremblay and Janssen would be in prison for the rest of their lives. Which, Megamind thought, might not be long at all unless they were kept in solitary. In the prison hierarchy, those who preyed on children were the lowest of the low.

There were calls to reinstate the death penalty, especially for Tremblay. He'd killed with a needle, people said, so he should die by a needle. But, as others pointed out, killing him would not bring back Juan and Maria Reyes, Nathan Garcia, Annie Coleman, Tyler Bell, or any of the others. And keeping him locked up and helpless, just as he'd done to his victims, was an equally fitting (and longer-lasting) punishment.

But on one thing, Tremblay did win in the end. His defense attorney questioned each of the five survivors as they took the stand, and pointed out that they bore no physical marks from their ordeal. If they expected the jury to believe the doctor had been trying to give them superpowers . . . well, couldn't they give a demonstration?

So they had.

When volunteers thought of a number, Violet not only read it correctly from their minds, but told why each person had chosen their particular number – some, it turned out, for very private reasons. With seeds from an apple core dug out of the trash, James made an apple sapling sprout in the courtroom. Laurie set fire to a wastebasket, nearly triggering the smoke alarm. Reggie turned on various devices and made electricity arc between his fingers like a Tesla coil. And Lucia, already growing more adept with her powers, conjured a glowing illusion of her parents.

It was an excellent presentation, and it won the jury's sympathy. But any hope of the children's powers remaining a secret ended that day.

#-#-#-#-#

There had been something sadly efficient about Metro Man dying on the special day the city had dedicated to him. When the first anniversary of his death had come last spring, the mayor and the city council had simply re-named it "Metro Man Memorial Day".

To the surprise of all but a few, Megamind had endorsed the occasion. _"Metro Mahn spent his life defending our city. He was a worthy opponent, and no one regrets his loss more than I. It would be wrong if we did not honor him."_

A light spring rain fell on the day this year. In spite of it – or maybe because it created the right mournful atmosphere – a long line of Metro Citizens paraded up a green hill on the city outskirts. Some carried flowers, or cards, or other trinkets.

A tall, trenchcoated figure quietly joined their midst. Rain pattered on his hat as he walked up the hill. In spite of the crowd, he felt deeply alone.

When Wayne had gone back to the loft that night, he'd found it deserted. Over the next week, he'd tried to call Danielle several times, leaving messages saying he was ready to give her the answers she wanted. When she never called back, he went down to the community center, only to have the director coolly inform him that her niece no longer worked there. He'd even stopped by Danielle's apartment . . . but couldn't bring himself to ring the bell.

No one could say he hadn't tried. But the thought didn't help.

The Scott family plot was surrounded by a low stone wall. The visitors who filed through the gate passed by the other graves, making their way to the massive one in the center. The one of snow-white marble, with the statue on top.

Wayne supposed he should feel disturbed, visiting his own grave. Instead, he was dryly amused. Like everything else in his old life, the memorial was grand and over-the-top. The polished marble platform bore the name METRO MAN in huge, gilded letters; the carved "Wayne Abel Scott" above it was barely noticeable. His date of birth was the day he'd arrived on Earth. There was some trite, heroic catchphrase – he didn't bother to read it.

The statue showed him in cape and uniform, standing with his arms spread like a churchyard angel. Its face was bland and solemn.

_The one at the museum was better._ Although Wayne hadn't been enthused by the Metro Man Museum overall, he'd quite liked the design for the statue: strong and dynamic, bearing the weight of the globe on its shoulders. If all these people – none of whom had actually _known_ him – wanted to make a show of paying their respects, he'd rather have them remember _that _image of Metro Man. At least the museum statue had been smiling a little.

He walked away from the crowd, toward the smaller, gray stones that marked where Lord and Lady Scott lay. He said nothing – with so many people around, he couldn't. Most of the other visitors didn't even notice.

But one did.

A short, dark-skinned woman quietly slipped out of the crowd. She carried no flowers or trinkets, but under her copper-colored jacket, she wore a T-shirt that bore the logo "Hard Rock Café: Metro City".

"I'm ready to talk now."

Wayne remained motionless as she approached. "I didn't think you'd be here."

"I could say the same thing about you." She brushed the rain out of her hair, where it had settled in dew-like beads. "I'm sorry I didn't return your calls. I needed time to think."

By unspoken agreement, they started down the hill together.

"Do you hate me?"

Danielle Dymond sighed. "No, Wayne, I don't hate you. I think I'm mostly angry at myself for not figuring it out sooner." She snorted. "Some detective I'd make."

That reminded him. "I talked to your aunt at the community center. She said you quit?"

"I prefer 'resigned'," she replied. Her mouth curved in a smile. "I'm going back to the police force. You were right, Wayne. I shouldn't have quit doing what I loved just because I had one moment of weakness."

"Hey, glad to hear it! We can always use another hero around here."

Her smile faded. "So . . . you really are . . . ?"

He nodded. "I really am."

"Then who . . . ?" She glanced back at the marble grave.

"It's just a nursing school prop." He chuckled. "I wonder if they ever noticed it was missing."

Danielle pulled her jacket tighter around herself. "So who else knows? I know Ritchi does, but –"

"As far as I know, just her and Megamind. And the fish, probably." He noticed her worried look. "And you don't have to worry, Dee. I told you, Roxanne and I were never together."

She didn't look convinced. "Why do you still like me? You heard all the stuff I said that night."

"I hate to admit it, but you were right about a lot of it." For a moment, he looked as solemn as the statue. "Dee, I never chose to be a hero. Not for the right reasons, anyway. I did it because I thought it was expected, since I had all those powers. By the time I realized it wasn't what I wanted, there was too much pressure to just quit."

". . . I never thought of it that way," she said. "I guess it must've been bad, if you had to fake your own death to get out." She paused, thinking about something. "That kid you told me about, the one you knew in school . . . was that _Megamind?_"

Wayne only nodded.

"That does explain a lot." They'd reached the end of the path by now. The rain had stopped, and she gazed up at a patch of blue sky starting to appear. "So what will you do now?"

"Well, I've been looking into renting an apartment –"

"I mean now as in today." Danielle looked at him shyly. "If you're interested, I know a good coffee place."

". . . I'd love that."

As they waited for the bus, Wayne Skye said, "You know, there's a new song I've been working on. Maybe you'd like to hear it sometime. I call it 'Diamond In The Rough'."

Her smile was like the sun breaking through the clouds. "Never heard that one before."

#-#-#-#-#

After the attack in her apartment, Roxanne had wasted no time in moving permanently into the Lair. She'd claimed it was to put her overprotective boyfriend's enormous mind at ease, but the truth was, she'd been just as impatient. She'd wanted to go home.

It hadn't been quite what she'd expected, though. Megamind had told her about his plan to foster the children ("Only until the trial's over!" he'd insisted), and she'd agreed to go along with it. Despite her doubts, there was probably no place in the city safer for them right now. Or safer _from _them, since their powers couldn't do any more damage to the Lair than Megamind's many experiments and inventions already had.

Even so, going from living by herself in a one-bedroom loft to living in a converted power station with a superintelligent alien, a cyborg fish, an army of brainbots, and five superpowered teenagers was taking some getting used to.

There were little things, like making sure someone didn't eat the last of the yogurt she'd bought for herself. And having to remember her new address on forms. And the much longer walk to the subway now, so long that she was thinking of getting a car. _Maybe with an invisibility mode._

But there were other things, too. Like the party Minion had thrown to celebrate her moving in. Or being greeted by Shockwave when she came back at the end of the day. And Megamind . . . well, _Megamind_. Being able to see him every day, and curl up in bed with him at night. With other people around the place, they'd had to become more discreet in their lovemaking (she had the sneaking suspicion Minion was pleased about that), but they were finding ways around it. Her beloved was nothing if not creative.

He still hadn't said a word about marriage. As days went by, Roxanne began to believe Kathleen really had been lying. And the thought saddened her.

It would be crazy, the reporter tried to tell herself. Marry the man who'd spent ten years kidnapping her and putting her in danger? Except . . . she knew she never _had _been in danger. For all the show he'd made of it, Megamind had never actually wanted to hurt her. Just the opposite – he'd wanted to be close to her, and had used the only methods he knew. And she'd even come to enjoy his company, after a while. It wasn't always fun, but it was seldom boring.

And he'd changed since then. He was a good guy now, a defender of the city. He _cared_about people – when churches all over the city had held candlelight services for the murdered children, he'd made a point of attending as many as he could.

No matter how tough things got, he never gave up. True, he needed her to guide him sometimes, but she liked that. And so what if he was an alien? He was still a _person_, and in all the ways that mattered to her, he was as human as any man.

She was already living with him. They were sleeping together, and had a relationship that looked like it was going to remain stable. When she imagined spending the rest of her life with him . . . yes, she wanted that.

Weeks passed, and spring began to change into summer. On a beautiful warm afternoon, Roxanne came home from work to find the Lair mostly quiet. Laurie, Reggie, and Lucia were taking classes at the community center, and James was visiting his grandmother – he'd told them he planned to start a garden at her nursing home. Minion was busy with his usual chores, which went even quicker now that he had Violet assisting him. The abused young psychic seemed to benefit just from being in the fish's presence.

In a thoughtful mood, Roxanne took the elevator up to the fake observatory on the Lair's roof. They'd put most of her boxes and furniture in storage up there, alongside the Tesla coils and blinky dials. For all the renovations to the rest of the Lair, the observatory still had a dark, dilapidated look, and Roxanne pulled the switch that opened the sliding doors, hoping to let in some air and sunlight while she browsed.

As the sky deepened to gold, the reporter heard the sound of the elevator descending, then rising again. She turned to look as bootsteps crossed the metal floor. "Hi," she said with a warm smile.

Megamind returned the smile. "Violet said you were up here."

"I didn't even feel her," Roxanne said. "She's getting better."

"They all are." He stood in front of the open doors. In the light of the setting sun, his blue skin took on a rosy undertone. "Roxanne, my love, there is something very important I wish to speak to you about."

Her heart rose. She walked over to join him in the light. "What is it?"

"As you know, I've been giving a lot of thought to my future recently. And I've reached a decision, one that I believe is the right path. But I can only take the final step with your help." He gazed into her eyes. "Roxanne, how would you feel . . ."

"Yes?"

". . . if I adopted the children?"

She froze. Her smile vanished. "_What?_"

"Became their legal guardian." The blue man faltered as he saw her shocked expression. "Yes, I know, the arrangement was supposed to be tem-pora-ree! But . . . well, Minion's grown fond of them, and they seem happy here, and they haven't yet caused any lasting damage –"

"Haven't _**yet?**_" It came out louder than she meant it to. "I'm sorry. It's just . . . this is such a lot to take in! Having them stay for a month or two was one thing, but letting them live here _permanently? Raising_t hem? What makes you think you're ready for that?"

"I don't expect it to be easy!" he told her. "But Roxanne, they don't have anyone else. And there's also the question of protecting them."

She had some idea of what he meant, but asked anyway. "Protecting them?"

"Thanks to that ploy Tremblay's attorney pulled, everyone _knows_ they have powers now. I don't know what Tremblay planned to do with them besides keep them in his collec-see-own, but there are people out there who will _use_them if they get the chance. I never want them to be in that situation again."

Roxanne knew he was right. The Doom Syndicate, to name the most obvious example, would love to get their hands on a technopath or a mind-reader. And what would Hot Flash think if she knew about Laurie? Would she want to take the girl as an apprentice, or kill off the competition?

"You're a super-genius," she said quietly. "Can't you find some way to reverse what Tremblay did?"

Megamind shook his head. "I've asked the children about it. From what I understand, the seeds of their powers were already there. Whatever Tremblay did merely magnified them on an exponential scale." He lowered his voice. "And even if I could remove their powers without harming them, I doubt they'd want me to."

She blinked. "Why not? If it meant they'd be safe –"

"Because they've _used_ them now." He paused for dramatic effect. "Roxanne . . . on the day you found my hideout, what if _you'd _been the one hit by the infuser gun? What if you'd suddenly found yourself with god-like power, and no price to pay for using it? And then, what if someone told you they wanted to take your powers away, even though you hadn't done anything wrong? Would you let them?"

Roxanne hesitated a long moment before answering. Back when he'd finally told her the full story of what had happened with Hal, she'd realized that she _could_ just as easily have become his Titan (_Titania?_ She wondered what the name would have been). It would be easy to _say _she could give up that kind of power for the greater good, but if she was going to be honest with herself . . .

"But that's another problem," was what she said. "You don't exactly have a good track record with this kind of thing! What if you end up with another Titan? _Five _of them?"

His gaze narrowed. "Roxanne, you've lived with them for weeks now. Do they strike you as being like Hal Shtewart?"

"Well, Laurie does have a pretty bad temper." She sighed. "But, you're right. They're good kids. I just don't want you trying to force them to be superheroes because _you_feel guilty."

"All I want is for them to use their powers _responsibly_," he insisted. "But, if any of them _do _wish to join me in defending the city, I certainly won't refuse the help. I won't be around forever, after all."

"Just so long as it's _their _choice." Roxanne nervously smoothed her bangs back. "It sounds like you've given a lot of thought to this."

He reached over and clasped her hands. "If you truly don't want me to do this, Roxanne, I won't. I haven't discussed it with Minion or the children yet. They never need to know I had the thought."

"Oh, it isn't that!" She looked away, gazing out at the sunset reflecting on the harbor. "I _do_ like them. And it _does _sound like the right thing to do. But . . . can we talk about it a little more before we all decide?"

"Of course!" Megamind pulled her into a gentle hug. "We'll take it slow."

_For real this time_, Roxanne told herself.

She rested her cheek against the warm curve of his neck. A thought popped into her head, and before she could stop herself, she started to laugh.

She felt him tense up under her. "And what is so funny?"

Roxanne knew she shouldn't say it. It was silly and pointless and inappropriate. But it slipped out anyway. "I always thought I'd be married before I had kids."

Megamind pulled back from her, eyes wide. "How did you . . . ?"

"You _were!_" she suddenly realized. "That night, Janssen said you'd been planning to propose to me! She said you had a ring?"

He nodded hesitantly. "Tremblay destroyed it. I can order another one, though."

A wave of apprehension came over her. "Then why haven't you?"

". . . Because I've been afraid." He took a deep breath. "Roxanne, you were nearly killed because of me. What if that happens again? And . . . you're so wonderful. You could have any _human _man you wished. I can't ever promise you a normal life –"

He was rambling now. Fortunately, Roxanne had learned a very effective way to silence that. She cupped his face in her hands and locked her lips with his in a deep, forceful kiss.

After a moment, she felt him embrace her again. They stayed that way for some time, until finally she spoke.

"Do you think I haven't considered all of that? 'Normal' is in the eye of the beholder, Megamind. If a life with you wasn't what I wanted, I wouldn't be here now."

The joy and love shining from his face melted her heart. Still hesitant, he asked, "You don't want to take it slow?"

Roxanne kissed him again. "Some things, you don't need to think about."

Megamind gave a small, wry laugh. "This isn't how I wanted it to go at _all!_ It was supposed to be a _surprise_, in a proper romantic location! I don't even have a _ring_–"

"Look." She gripped his chin, turning his head to look out the observatory doors. Across the water, Metro City was bathed in all the colors of the sunset. It was a beautiful view, made even more beautiful by the golden glow that suffused the space where they stood. "I'd call this a pretty romantic location. As for a ring . . ." She glanced around at the stacks of boxes. On a whim, she picked up a scrap of cotton packing string.

"At least it's softer than rope," she said with a smirk.

Megamind hesitated one last time. Then he grinned, and took the piece of string. In the golden light, he dropped to one knee.

"Roxanne . . . it was always you. In my darkest, loneliest moments, you were the one I dreamed of. That, after all I've done, you would even be my friend is an honor. That you would _love_me, is a miracle. And now, there is one more thing I dare to hope for." He held up the string, his eyes shining. "Will you marry me?"

There was so much she wanted to say. But in the end, she knew only one word would do.

"Yes!"

Blinking back tears, Roxanne held out her hand. Megamind gently wound the string around her ring finger and tied a careful knot. As he finished, he kissed the back of her hand. "I _will _get you a real ring, as soon as possible."

She pulled him to his feet for more kissing. "Maybe we can design one together."

"I like that idea." A thought seemed to occur to him. "In the meantime, though, there is one more thing I could give you. I was going to save it for your birthday, but I'd say this occasion is far more special!"

Hand in hand, he led her down the elevator and across the vast floor of the Lair, down to the far section that she thought of as "the garage". Amongst the various gadgets and gear, he showed her something large, covered by a dropcloth. Roxanne, who'd been thinking along the lines of jewelry or books, wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Reggie found the pieces when you were moving in," Megamind explained. "I kept the old color, but we can change it if you prefer." With a flourish, he whipped off the dropcloth.

Roxanne gasped. She recognized the handlebars and dashboard, but the rest of it . . .

"My scooter! You . . . you turned it into a hoverbike?"

"I thought you might like your own vee-hicle." Her fiancée looked at her hopefully. "_Do _you like it?"

Roxanne ran her hand over the sleek yellow chassis. "I _love _it! And I love you." She tested the handlebars. "Is it finished?"

"I believe so."

"In that case . . ." She grinned. "We've got a few hours of daylight left. Feel like giving me my first flying lesson?"

And so he did. Megamind handed his fiancée a gleaming white helmet, saying "You look good in white too." As Roxanne mounted the bike, he sat pillion behind her, arms protectively around her waist. "Now, all you have to do is . . ."

The doors opened before them, and the lady and her hero rode off into the sunset.

_**The End**_


End file.
